LITTLE    BROTHER; 


AND 


THEH    GENRE-PICTURES 


FITZ   HUGH  LUDLOW, 

U>K   OF  "THE  HASHEESH  EATER,"   "REGULAR  HABITS, 
"AMONG  THE  MORMONS,"  "SEVEN  WEEKS  IN  THE 
I,  UK  AT   YO-SEMITE,"   KTC.  ETC. 


"Maxima  reverentia  pueris  debetur.'' —  JUVENAL. 


BOSTON: 
LEE    AND    SHEPARD. 

1807. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1867,  by 

LEE    &    SHBPARD, 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


IN    MIND    OF    A    COUKTESY    TO    WHICH    THREE    PICTURES    IN    THIS 

CABINET    OWE    THEIK    PRESENT    SETTING,    AND    A    LARGK- 

HEARTEDNESS    WHICH    FROM    THE    BEGINNING    OK 

HIS    CAREER   HAS   AFFORDED    INNUMERABLE 

HELPS    TO    THEIR    AKTIST,    THEY    AKK 

INSCRIBED    TO 

THAT  WISE  AND  GENEROUS  FRIEND  OF  LETTKRS, 

FLETCHER   HARPER,   ESQ. 


2017325 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

9 


LITTLE   BROTHER     . 

FLEEING   TO    TARSHISH      . 

LITTLE  BRIGGS  AND  I    . 

A  BRACE   OF   BOYS        .  


246 


LITTLE  BROTHER. 

i. 

A  BOY   TOO   MUCH. 

T  was  of  no  use  to  tell  Kate  that  Augustus  — 
of  the  same  surname,  and  aged  seven  years  — 
was  a  sweet  little  fellow.  He  ourjht  to  be,  con- 
sidering the  number  of  paper-bags,  labelled 
"  Stewart's  Assorted  Candies,"  he  consumed  per  week. 
Of  as  little  use  to  say  he  was  a  child:  there  were  some 
children  who  didn't  put  newspapers  on  the  strings  of 
their  sister's  piano,  and  play  it  was  a  banjo.  Oh  !  he 
would  outgrow  it,  would  he?  Then,  why  wasn't  he 
sent  away  somewhere  till  he  did  ?  Or  put  into  some- 
thing, and  locked  up  ?  Or  put  under  somewhere,  —  a 
large  barrel,  for  instance,  with  the  head  knocked  out  to 
give  him  air,  as  they  do  with  young  tomatoes  and  pie- 
plants till  they  arrive  at  an  age  when  they  can  come  to 
the  table  ? 

Then  Kate  Jones's  mother  — just  like  a  mother,  as 
she  was !  —  assumed  the  part  of  a  tenderer  variety  of 
Judge- Advocate;  and  while  she  acknowledged  that  the 


io  Little  Brother. 

little  Augustus  did  almost  exhaust  her  patience  on  occa- 
sions, recalled  a  number  of  very  pretty  ways  he  had, 
nice  things  he  had  done,  affectionate  words  he  had  said, 
and  the  truly  good  heart  that  the  child  posseted  be- 
neath all  his  boy-mischief ! 

For  instance:  Did  not  Kate  remember  how,  when  the 
family  was  boarding  at  the  St.  Jimmy,  —  that  gilded 
cage,  where  families  not  yet  able,  in  their  own  estima- 
tion, to  be  happily  domestic  in  a  house  of  their  own  at  a 
moderate  price,  were  accommodated  with  facilities  for 
being  very  fashionably  miserable  at  an  exorbitant  one, 
—  the  dear  little  fellow  had  once  shown  such  an  affec- 
tionate solicitude  for  his  mother "  and  sister  ?  How, 
when,  after  wondering  all  one  Friday  why  the  washer- 
woman didn't  come  home  with  the  clothes,  —  because 
they  wanted  to  darn  the  stockings  and  see  the  shirts  all 
right,  —  they  found,  in  the  evening,  that  she  had  come 
in  the  forenoon,  while  they  were  shopping  down-town, 
and  that  Gus  had  taken  all  the  clothes  out  of  the  basket, 
and  put  them  away  in  all  sorts  of  inconceivable  drawers, 
presses,  and  trunks,  before  the  two  ladies  returned;  and 
when  he  was  asked  if  he  had  anything  to  say  why  the 
sentence  of  being  spanked  until  he  was  red  should  not 
be  passed  upon  him,  he  sobbed,  and  put  his  little  fists 
into  his  eyes,  and  faltered  out  something  which  led  them 
to  understand  that  the  "  Song  of  the  Shirt,"  read  by 
his  father  to  them  all,  three  evenings  before,  had  left 
such  an  impression  on  his  young  mind  that  he  had  hid- 
den the  clothes,  to  prevent  his  mother  and  sister  sewing 


A  Boy  too  Much.  n 

on  them  and  dying  of  consumption  V    Didn't  Kate  re- 
member that  ? 

Yes;  Kate  did  remember  it.  And  she  remembered 
also  another  occasion,  since  they  had  rented  their  pres- 
ent house  in  Twenty-third  street,  when  the  dear  little 
fellow  drove  away  from  their  connection  one  of  the  most 
aristocratic  young  gentlemen  in  all  New  York  society, 
—  young  Schumakers  Fyndings.  To  be  sure  his  papa 
did  business  down  in  some  awful  place  that  her  papa 
called  the  Swamp;  but  Kate  didn't  believe  he  ever  went 
there,  or  knew  anything  about  where  it  was,  even.  Both 
directly  and  indirectly  his  papa  might  have  furnished 
the  calf-skin  for  his  delicate  polished  boots;  but  there 
was  not  the  slightest  suspicion  of  the  ancestral  leather 
about  him  otherwise.  No,  not  in  the  least !  And  he 
would  have  been  such  a  desirable  person  to  know, —  but 
for  that  little  pest !  And  Kate  went  on  rapidly  to  re- 
cite how  Master  Augustus,  contrary  to  her  own  mature 
adjvice,  had  been  permitted  to  "  sit  up "  at  the  party, 
and  had  the  little  Misses  Blummerie  invited  over  to 
make  it  pleasant  for  him;  and  yet,  ingrate  that  he  was, 
when  the  gentlemen  were  all  out  in  the  hall,  ready  to 
go,  after  the  breaking-up,  and  Harold  Fitz-Blacktease, 
the  son  of  the  China  trader,  came  downstairs,  and  said, 
"  Fellahs  !  who's  got  a  cigar  for  me  to  smoke  on  my 
way  home  ? "  and  no  man  gave  unto  him,  how  that 
wretched  Augustus,  leaning  over  the  balcony  at  his 
side,  with  slow,  unraoving  finger  selected  young  Fynd- 
ings  out  of  the  throng,  and  said,  in  a  voice  distinctly 


12  Little  Brother. 

audible  to  all  present,  "He's  got  some;  he  has:  I  saw 
him  take  six  out  of  papa's  box  up  in  the  gentlemen's 
dressing-room,  and  they're  in  the  inside  pocket  of  his 
Raglan  !  "  And  how  young  Fyndings  turned  the  color 
of  his  papa's  boot-top  morocco,  and,  in  a  humiliated 
manner,  extended  one  of  the  said  six  to  Fitz-Blacktease; 
and  how  she  nearly  dropped  with  mortification;  and 
how  young  Fyndings  never  came  to  make  his  party  call 
—  nor,  indeed,  a  call  of  any  description  —  afterward. 
Did  her  mamma  remember  that  ? 

And,  only  to  weary  her  with  one  instance  more: 
Could  she  recall  the  time  when  Master  Augustus  turned 
to  that  distinguished  foreigner,  M.  Pate  de  Perigord, 
who  was  dining  with  them  previous  to  taking  Kate  to 
see  the  performance  of  "  ze  inimitable  Sharl  Mattieu  " 
in  the  "  Critic,"  with  Brougham,  Burton,  "Walcot,  and 
Lizzie  "Weston,  at  the  Metropolitan,  and  asked  him, 
"  Have  you  got  a  large  salary  ?  "  and  upon  the  distin- 
guished foreigner  answering,  in  his  pretty,  broken  way, 
with  a  disguised  surprise,  that  he  had  "  not  ze  salaire  at 
all,"  the  enfant  terrible  bent  a  severe  gaze  upon  him, 
and  demanded,  "  How  can  you  afford  to  take  my  sister 
to  Burton's  then  ?  "  And,  in  general,  was  it  among  pos- 
sible remembrances  that,  on  New- Year's  days,  the  for- 
midable infant  stood  sucking  innumerable  consecutive 
oranges  at  the  foot  of  the  front-steps,  and  shaking  with 
juicy  hands  the  lavender  kids  of  the  gentlemen  who 
came  to  pay  their  compliments;  or,  tiring  of  that 
t,  ascended  to  the  parlor,  borrowed  the  visit- 


A  Boy  too  Much.  13 

ors'  hats,  asked  them  where  they  got  them,  what  they 
paid  for  them,  and,  with  the  same  succulent  hands, 
brushed  the  nap  the  wrong  way  ? 

In  fine,  was  it  on  the  record  how  that  Augustus  never 
ceased  to  behave  himself  in  the  most  heart-rending  and 
peace-dispelling,  odious  manner,  at  all  times  and  places, 
universal  and  particular  ?  Was  it,  or  was  it  not  ?  That 
\v;is  all  ! 

At  this  moment  the  angel  spoken  of  showed  his 
wings.  A  harbinger  voice  in  the  entry  cried,  "  Porgies  ! 
Here-er  yer  fresh  porgies  !  Here  they  go-o-oh  !  "  The 
door  opened,  and  the  terrible  child  came  in.  His  head, 
which  just  reached  to  the  door-knob,  was  covered  with 
a  thicket  of  corn-silky  curls;  and,  having  parted  from 
the  comb  on  bad  terms  before  breakfast,  had  not  made 
up  with  it  since.  His  cheeks  were  plump  as  mellow 
Spitzenbergs,  and  quite  as  red,  with  overmuch  shouting 
of  his  imaginary  wares.  These  —  to  wit,  the  porgies  — 
consisted  of  a  selection  from  the  valuable  annuals  and 
vases  which  ought  to  have  occupied  the  drawing-room 
centre-table,  and  were  borne  in  the  hollow  bottom  of  an 
embroidered  footstool,  turned  upside  down,  its  floss  and 
worsted  suffering  undesirable  attrition  with  the  carpet; 
and  the  whole  establishment,  thus  improvised,  was  fast- 
ened to  his  waist  by  an  elegant  groseille  silken  cord  and 
tassel  from  his  mother's  morning-dress,  which  cost  at 
the  least  twelve  shillings  at  Peyser's.  His  eyes  were  a 
mischievous  twinkling  hazel:  young  as  he  was,  there 
\vas  ;in  air  of  old  waggishness  about  him,  a  sense  of  the 
•2 


14  Little  Brother. 

ludicrous,  which  promised  the  true  man  of  humor 
when  a  few  more  years  in  this  mixed  world  should  have 
added  pathos  to  his  fun.  But,  at  present,  he  was  only 
the  dear,  naughty  little  rogue,  —  one  of  those  children 
that  you  are  forever  wanting  to  whip  at  one  end  and 
kiss  at  the  other. 

Kate  had  worked  the  footstool  which  this  lad  was 
desecrating.  With  a  fateful  sternness  and  an  agony  of 
mind  which  did  not  express  itself  "in  words,  for  these 
had  proved  useless  long  ago,  she  put  down  the  under- 
sleeve  she  was  crocheting,  and  marching  up  to  her 
brother,  began  disengaging  the  cord  and  tassel  from 
his  waist. 

"  Take  eare,  Kate,"  said  the  child,  with  a  shake  of  his 
head:  "  I'm  a  horse.  You're  afraid  of  horses,  you 
know,  and  this  one  is  a  very  bad  one.  He  kicks,  and 
bites,  and  runs  away,  and  does  everything  that's  bad. 
Oh,  he's  an  awful  horse.]  Porgies  !  here-er  yer  fresh 
porgies  !  here  they  go-o-oh  !  " 

And  he  burst  away  from  the  young  girl  to  career 
around  the  room  faster  than  Kate's  offended  dignity 
chose  to  follow  him. 

"  My  son,  take  off  that  cord  and  sit  down  for  a  mo- 
ment. I  want  to  talk  to  you."  This  was  said  very 
calmly  by  the  mother  of  Augustus. 

"Yes,  mamma,  I  will.  I'm  a  good  horse  to  people 
that  treat  me  kindly  and  don't  make  me  shy;  so  I'll  just 

! 

take  my  harness    off  and   listen.      May  I  stand   up, 


A  Boy  too  Much.  15 

mamma,  while  you're  talking  ?  Horses  never  sit  down, 
you  know." 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  come  and  stand  up  by  my  side  and 
let  me  take  your  hand."  Augustus  obeyed,  with  very 
good  grace.  Kate  resumed  her  crocheting  in  silence, 
and  the  mother  said  to  the  child:  — 

"  My  son,  do  you  love  me  —  very  much  indeed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma,  I  love  you  —  six  bushels." 

"  Why  do  you  love  me,  Augustus  ?  " 

"  Because  you're  good." 

"  Don't  you  want  to  be  loved,  my  dear  little  son  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  w#nt  people  to  love  me,  if  they  wont  call  me 
a  monkey,  and  an  owl,  and  good-for-nothing,  and  say  I 
ought  to  be  whipped,  and  sent  to  bed,  and  have  my  hair 
brushed,  and  everything  mean."  (This  with  a  glance  at 
Miss  Jones,  who  did  not  appear  to  hear  it.) 

"  Don't  you  think  I  love  you,  Augustus  ?  " 

"  Yes,  you  do,  mamma." 

••  Why  do  I  love  you,  Augustus  ?  " 

"  Because  I'm  naughty." 

"  Wouldn't  you  like  to  be  loved  because  you  were 
good  ?  " 

"  Wouldn't  I  die  if  I  were  good  ?  " 

"  Why,  what  do  you  mean,  Augustus  ?  " 

"  Wouldn't  I  have  to  be  an  angel,  and  with  the  angels 
stand,  a  crown  upon  my  forehead,  a  harp  within  my 
hand  ?  That's  what  I  mean :  that's  what  little  Jimmy 
Stilton  did,  and  he  was  good,  Kate  said.  He  wanted 
to  be  an  angel,  he  did.  I  don't,  because  he  died;  and 


16  Little  Brother. 

he  didn't  know  what  knuckle-down  was !  And  he 
thought  that  top-time  came  before  kite-time  !  And  if  he's 
got  a  harp  I  don't  believe  he  can  play  it,  for  he  couldn't 
do  anything  with  a  jews-harp,  and  a  harp's  an  awful  lot 
harder,  —  isn't  it,  mamma  ?  " 

"Don't  say  'an  awful  lot,'  dear;  say  '  a  great  deal.' 
Oh,  how  sorry  I  am  to  think  my  little  boy  wouldn't  like 
to  be  an  angel !  You  can  be  an  angel  and  live,  too, 
Augustus;  you  can  be  an  angel,  and  stay  to  make  us  all 
very  happy." 

"I  know  it;  you're  an  angel,  mamma.  Give  me  a 
great  big  kiss  ! " 

"  There,  dear  !  there  are  two  instead  of  one  for  you  ! 
But  let  me  talk  to  you  a  little  more;  did  you  never 
read  the  pretty  books  you  get  at  school,  about  being 
good  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma,  and  that's  just  it !  Don't  all  the  good 
children  in  books  die  ?  Don't  Nathan  Dickerman  sit 
on  a  chair  in  his  picture,  with  something  very  bad  the' 
matter  with  his  back,  and  don't  he  die  when  he's  only 
ten  years  old  ?  And  don't  little  Mary  Lathrop  die 
when  she's  eight  ?  and  didn't  she  turn  round  when  her 
brother  slapped  her,  and  say,  '  Hit  me  on  the  other 
cheek,  dear  ? '  I'd  ha'  deared  him  I  I  wish  I'd  been 
there;  I'd  ha'  lammed  him,  I  would  !  " 

"  But  don't  my  little  son  remember  that  all  the  naughty 
children  in  the  books  get  terribly  punished  for  it,  —  say, 
my  little  Augustus  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes,  they  die,  too  !  they  go  out  in.  boats  on  Sun- 


A  Boy  too  Much.  17 

day,  and  get  tipped  up;  and  in  the  pictures  you  can't 
see  anything  but  their  hands  sticking  above  the  water, 
and  nobody  comes  to  pull  them  out.  Or  they  go  up 
into  trees  to  hook  birds'  nests,  and  the  limb  always 
breaks,  and  then  they  get  it  I  Oh,  cracky  !  don't  they  ? 
Everybody  dies,  in  books  ;  good  boys  die,  and  naughty 
boys  die  ! " 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do,  then,  Augustus,  if  the 
good  boys  and  naughty  boys  both  die  ?  " 

"I  —  I  —  I — "  Here  Augustus  stopped  and  scratched 
his  head  in  deep  meditation.  Finally  he  brightened  up 
with  the  discovery  of  a  capital  idea.  "  I  guess,"  said 
Augustus,  "  that  I  wont  be  very  naughty,  nor  very  good; 
I'll  be  half -an"1 -half  I  and  then  I'll  keep  alive  fornever 
and  never ! " 

"O  Augustus!  Very  well!  half-and-half  is  better 
than  very  naughty ;  and  I'm  afraid  that  my  little  boy  is 
that,  too,  sometimes." 

"  Yes,  I  am ;  I'm  very  naughty  to-day ;  for  I've  been 
playing  porgies  with  the  books,  and  the  vases,  and  the 
footstool,  and  your  cord.  But  I  wont  do  it  any  more. 
And  I'm  very  naughty  to  Kate,  too,  to-day;  but  I  al- 
ways am  naughty  to  7ier,  because  she's  so  naughty  to 
me,  —  and,  besides,  I  do  hate  that  Spindle-shanks  ! " 

"  Augustus  !  I  shall  punish  you,  if  you  call  your 
bister  names  ! " 

"  I  aint  a-callin  her  names ;  she  isn't  spindle-shanks." 

"  Who  do  you  mean,  then,  Augustus  ?  " 

"  I  mean  that  old  thing,  Mr.  Lilykid,  who  is  all  the 
o* 


i8  Little  Brother. 

time  coming  to  see  Kate,  and  drinking  papa's  Cham- 
pagne, and  dancing  polkas  with  Kate,  and  taking  her  to 
the  opera,  and  calling  me  '  sonny ! '  Just  as  I  was  coming 
upstairs  with  the  porgies  Johnson  let  him  in,  and  asked 
me  would  I  tell  Kate  that  a  gentleman  was  in  the  parlor; 
and  he's  been  here  ever  since,  cooling  his  heels  while 
I  was  up  here  talking,  —  that's  what  Johnson  calls  it 
when  he  has  to  wait.  What  does  '  cooling  his  heels 
mean,  mamma  ?  " 

"Good  Heavens!  "  ejaculated  Kate;  "  and  you  never 
told  me  of  it,  you  wicked,  wicked  boy  !  If  you  don't 
whip  him  for  this,  mother,  I  shall  think  you  mean  to  let 
him  rush  headlong  to  destruction  !  " 

So  saying,  she  jerked  the  bell-pull,  as  if  it  were  Master 
Augustus's  ear,  and  communicated  with  some  faintly 
tintinnabulating  conscience  in  the  basement  of  his  system, 
instead  of  merely  sounding  an  alarm  to  Johnson  in  the 
kitchen,  who  straightway  knocked  at  the  door. 

"  Go  down  immediately  to  the  parlor,  Johnson,"  said 
Miss  Jones,  in  a  tone  whose  sternness  was  just  enough 
smothered  to  fall  short  of  the  guest  below, "  and  tell  Mr. 
Lilykid  that,  by  a  mistake,  I  was  only  informed  just 
now  of  his  being  here,  and  will  see  him  directly.  And 
remember,  Johnson,  never,  on  any  occasion  when  you 
have  a  message  for  me,  to  give  it  to  Master  Augustus, 
but  bring  it  yourself." 

"  Directly "  is  an  idea  of  such  wonderful  elasticity 
that,  in  the  seventh  sphere  of  the  spiritual  world,  where 
Mrs.  Hatch  informs  us  that  v[p  shall  be  clothed  with 


A  Boy  too  Much.  19 

ideas  in  lieu  of  matter,  it  will  probably  answer  to  the 
India-rubber  of  this  present  gross  life,  and  be  manufac- 
tured into  all  sorts  of  ethereal  overshoes,  belting, 
shoulder-straps,  water-proof  coats,  and  stretchable  ar- 
rangements whatsoever,  by  some  Horace  Day  of  that 
stage  of.  existence.  "  Directly,"  with  the  soldier  and 
sailor,  means  as  long  as  it  takes  to  turn  on  their  heels ; 
with  the  waiter  at  the  eating-house  where  I  lunch,  it 
means  as  soon  as  the  fat  man  in  the  next  box  has  ceased 
to  be  hungry,  thirsty,  and  morning-paper-ivorous;  with 
young  ladies  in  general,  it  signifies  any  conceivable  time, 
from  half  an  hour  and  rising,  in  which  a  lovely  mauve 
barege  robe  may  be  put  on,  its  skirt,  under-skirt,  and 
over-skirt  shaken  down,  so  as  to  lie  airily  over  those 
magnificent  thirty-spring  skirts,  with  tapes  woven  in 
and  adjustable  bustles,  created  by  the  wondrous  Mrs. 
Peddie,  of  Bowery,  just  below  Bleecker  street.  This 
was  what  "  directly  "  meant  with  Miss  Kate  Jones  in 
particular. 

With  a  sweet  smile  upon  her  pretty  mouth,  —  which 
was  not  the  result  of  saying  "  papa,  propriety,  poultry 
primes,  prisms,"  but  of  a  still  better  recipe,  —  the  banish- 
ment of  all  thoughts  concerning  that  dreadful  Augustus, 
—  she  descended  to  the  parlor,  and  met  Mr.  Lilykid 
with  a  voice  from  the  "  Young  Lady's  Behavior-Book  " 
and  a  bow  from  the  third  figure  of  the  Lancers.  Mr. 
Lilykid,  being  a  gentleman  who  ran  entirely  to  the  small 
and  well-polished  toes  of  good  society,  either  had  no 
heels  to  cool  or  ignored  them  completely,  reciprocating 


2O  Little  Brother. 

the  greeting  as  if  he  had  only  coine  in  within  the  last 
three  minutes. 

"  Did  any  one  ever  see  such  a  contretemps  ?  "  warbled 
Kate,  with  a  light-hearted  laugh.  "  Here  you  have  been 
kept  waiting,  so  rudely,  I  don't  know  how  long,  —  it 
must  be  ten  minutes,  I  dare  say." 

"  Oh,  h-a-a-adly  !  ha-a-adly  !  "  murmured  Mr.  Lily- 
kid,  in  gallant  deprecation.  "  What's  that  pwetty  thing 
the  poet  says  ?  —  'How  softly  falls  the  foot  of  Time  that 
only  tweads  on  flowahs  ! '  And  to  expect  Miss  Jones,  — 
oh,  that  is  to  twead  on  damask  woses,  —  otto  of  woses  ! 
Weally,  I  feel  as  if  I  were  not  only  on  an  ottoman,  but 
an  otto-man  myself,  now  that  you  ah  heah  !  Ha  !  he  ! 
he  !  he  !  " 

"You  are  very  kind,  I'm  sure,  as  well  as  very  witty  ! 
You  must  have  thought  you  were  going  to  be  fastened 
to  your  ottoman  for  a  thousand  years,  like  the  King  in 
the  Palace  of  Sleepers;  but  it's  all  that  darling  little 
rogue  of  a  brother  of  mine  !  Johnson  very  improperly 
confided  his  message  to  him,  and  he  went  off  to  play,  as 
children  will,  and  forgot  all  about  it.  "What  do  you  find 
to  amuse  yourself  with  now,  in  town  ?  It's  so  dreadfully 
dull,  and  everybody's  leaving  for  the  Springs,  or  New- 
port, or  Europe.  We're  going  out  next  week;  we 
would  have  gone  this,  but  papa  always  likes  to  go  with 
us,  and  he  wanted  to  stay  for  the  Bremen  steamer. 
What  do  you  find  to  do  ?  " 

(Mr.  Lilykid  will  excuse  me  for  translating  his  bon 


A  Boy  too  Much.  21 

ion-ese  into  English  hereafter,  as  its  drawl  is  painful  to 
vulgar  ears.) 

"  My  dear  Miss  Jones,  a  man  devoted  to  good  society 
always  has  enough  to  do  I  I  sometimes  see  friends  of 
mine  feeling  quite  miserably,  —  blase,  in  fact,  —  and  I 
always  say  to  them,  '  Eustis,'  or  '  Ainsley,'  or  '  Belle- 
mountain,'  as  the  case  may  be,  '  really,  how  can  you  ? 
Do  you  know  your  duty  to  your  set  ?  Do  you  reflect 
that  you'll  be  called  on  to  be  an  ornament  to  it  next 
winter,  —  to  exert  yourself  for  its  benefit,  —  to  make 
yourself  agreeable  in  every  way  ?  And  yet  you  are 
idle  !  I  declare  it's  a  shame  ! '  For  there  are  so  manjr 
things  a  man  devoted  to  good  society  can  do  to  keep 
himself  in  practice,  you  know.  Dear  me  !  I  could  not 
excuse  myself  to  my  conscience  if  I  were  idle  !  " 

"  You  say  I  know,  but  I  don't  know.  Tell  me,  for  I 
feel  a  sincere  interest  in  knowing.  I  really  supposed 
that  all  that  gentlemen  found  to  occupy  themselves 
with,  after  the  winter  was  over  and  before  the  summer 
season  began,  was  to  lie  on  a  sofa  and  color  their  meer- 
schaums ! " 

"  Aw,  really  !  I  confess  to  the  meerschaum ;  but 
then,  that's  only  my  relaxation.  .  I  nev^r  permit  myself 
to  take  it  up  unless  my  mind  has  been  on  the  stretch  for 
some  time,  and  wants  unbending,  you  know.  Business 
first,  pleasure  afterward;  and  I  have  so  much  to  keep 
me  busy  every  day  that  I  don't  think  much  of  mere 
selfish  gratification,  —  till  evening,  at  least." 


22  Little  Brother. 

"  But  you  don't  go  down-town,  like  poor  papa,  into 
that  dreadful  Wall  street  ?  " 

"  Ha-a-a-adly  !  When  I  say  business,  I  don't  mean 
stocks,  and  rents,  and  dividends,  and  all  that:  my  law- 
yer attends  to  those  things  for  me.  Left  an  orphan  at  a 
very  early  age,  with  a  large  property,  consisting  almost 
entirely  of  real  estate  widely  scattered  through  the  rural 
districts,  I  don't  know  what  I  should  have  done,  young 
as  I  was,  and  careless  of  my  own  interests,  —  as  I  still 
am,  —  if  it  hadn't  been  for  my  having  a  capable  business 
man,  who  was  faithfully  attached  to  our  family,  and 
who  comes  between  me  and  all  my  tenants,  and  others 
who  want  to  talk  about  money.  My  business  is  some- 
thing quite  different,  I  assure  you.  You  see,  Miss 
Jones,  from  my  youngest  days  I  have  been  devoted  to 
good  society.  I  live  for  it.  I  may  say  it  is  my  meat 
and  my  drink  to  do  my  duty  to  good  society.  And  at 
this  season,  when  everybody  else  is  voting  it  dull  and 
lounging  about,  I  say  to  myself,  '  Lorenzo  Lilykid,  no 
lounging  for  you,  my  boy  !  What  are  you  going  to  do 
to-day  for  good  society  ? '  That's  when  I  rise,  you 
know.  Well,  you  see,  something  always  presents  itself. 
Take  to-day,  for  instance.  I  reflect,  while  I  am  taking 
my  morning  coffee,  that  there's  serious  danger  of  my 
billiards  getting  down.  I'm  startled  by  remembering 
that  the  last  time  I  played  was  with  little  Tom  Tibbits, 
—  fortnight  next  Friday,  —  only  pocket-game,  —  excuse 
me  for  being  technical,  —  know  it's  very  shoppy,  —  gave 
him  thirty  points,  —  beat  him  easily,  —  no  sort  of  prac- 


A  Boy   too  Much.  23 

tice  in  that.  If  I  lose  my  game,  there's  one  duty  to 
good  society  gone,  —  dead  smash  !  So  I  walk  down  to 
Phelan's,  take  the  cue,  and  play  a  carom  game,  even, 
with  Frank  Toler, —  splendid  cue,  he  !  —  and  just  beat 
him  by  three  points  !  There's  one  duty  to  good  society 
fulfilled,  —  feel  happier,  stronger,  —  conscious  of  not 
giving  way  to  loose  habits.  That  lasted  half  an  hour; 
and  when  it  was  over;  I  began  to  reflect  again.  A  man 
devoted  to  good  society  must  reflect,  —  can't  rush  head- 
long, you  know,  —  it  seems  quite  unprincipled  for  a  man 
with  duties,  and  we  all  have  those,  of  course." 

"  Of  course  !  "  assented  Kate,  deferentially,  awe-struck 
by  the  moral  grandeur  of  the  individual. 

V  When  I  reflect,  I  call  to  mind  that  next  winter  I 
shall  be  expected  — if  I  am  spared  —  to  perform  various 
other  duties  to  good  society.  The  Chasseurs  will,  per- 
haps, be  as  necessary  to  a  man  devoted  to  its  interests 
as  the  Lancers  have  been  hitherto.  Shall  I  be  ignorant 
of  them  ?  Shall  I  be  the  one  to  bring  confusion  into 
my  set  by  going  to  the  right  when  I  ought  to  go  to  the 
left,  and  bowing  when  I  ought  to  chassez  ?  No !  I  know 
my  duty  better.  I  whistle  the  Chasseurs,  and  go  through 
the  figures  by  myself  for  an  hour.  I  know  them  well. 
I  can  take  my  place  when  duty  calls.  That  brings  me 
to  lunch,  —  deviled  chop  and  mushrooms,  at  the  St. 
Germain.  There  I  have  an  opportunity  to  study  the 
manners  of  the  best  men.  Major  Totbury,  of  the  Sev- 
enth, sits  at  the  next  table,  taking  fricandeau  of  veal 
and  sherry^  followed  by  quail  saute  aux  truffes  ;  'pon 


24  Little  Brother. 

honor,  most  accomplished  luncher  in  New  York;  eats 
by  science ;  might  be  a  lesson  to  anybody.  I  learn  from 
him,  —  he  doesn't  know  it;  but  I  honor  him,  and  shall 
remember  his  order  next  time  I  lunch  there." 

"  Oh,  you  satirical  man  ! "  said  KatCj  elevating  her 
pretty  eyebrows. 

"  Oh,  not  at  all  !  I  entreat  you,  don't  think  so  !  If 
a  man  devoted  to  good  society  lunches,  he  owes  it  as  a 
duty  to  good  society  to  lunch  well.  Declare  I  respect 
him  for  it.  Very  well,  lunch  finished,  what  next  ?  Ke- 
flect  again.  Lunch  suggests  suppers,  • —  suppers  in  gen- 
eral, by  a  natural  train  of  associations,  bring  up  suppers 
in  particular,  —  evening-party  suppers ;  and  then,  with 
the  greatest  remorse,  I  find,  oh,  such  a  horrible  piece 
of  last  winter's  reminiscence  staring  me  in  the  face  ! 
What  do  you  think  I  was  so  wretched  as  to  do  to  Miss 
Arabella  Dubblezeppher  at  the  Snugfittes'  Fancy  Dress 
Ball,  in  January  ?  " 

Miss  Jones  blushed  an  apocalypse  of  all  the  many  re- 
maining proprieties  which  good  society  had  not  subdued 
to  their  right  proportion.  Young  gentlemen  did  so 
many  ardent  things  beyond  squeezing  the  partners  of 
the  bosoms  a  trifle  too  tight  in  the  Deux  Pas,  —  when 
the  Champagne  was  not  prudently  toned  by  pious  educa- 
tion and  a  bottle  of  cooling  Chablis  or  Sauterne  in  the 
dressing-room  !  "  Kissed  Miss  Arabella  Dubblezep- 
pher "  was  in  her  mind,  and  her  mind  —  untutored  soul 
that  she  was  —  being  so  near  her  tongue,  therefore  did 
Miss  Jones  blush. 


A  Boy  too  Much.  25 

"  Really,  I  can't  i'orm  the  slightest  idea." 

"  You  were  not  there,  —  to  my  great  desolation  having 
received  Mrs.  Tambour's  cards  first,  as  I  remember, — 
and,  therefore,  Miss  Dubblezeppher  was  the  Houri,  at 
least  of  Snugfittes'  Fancy  Dress  Paradise.  And  I  —  me 
r/iiri,  J'ctourdi .'  — spilt  a  whole  table-spoonful  of  melted 
chocolate  ice  on  her  wings,  when  I  was  helping  her." 

"  Oh,"  said  Kate,  visibly  relieved,  and  thinking  of  the 
dozen  or  so  rich  silk:?  hanging  in  her  wardrobe,  fraught 
with  similar  remembrances  in  various  colors  differing 
from  the  original,  which  never  more  would  flutter  to  the 
wooing  of  Dodsworth's  pipes.  "  Oh  !  is  that  all  ?  " 

"All,  my  dear  Miss  Jones?  It  is  enough,  and  far 
too  much.  Since  I  first  devoted  myself  to  good  society 
I  never  but  once  before  committed  a  piece  of  similar 
maladroitness.  How  did  Miss  Arabella  receive  it  ? 
Ah  !  admirably.  In  the  Dark  Ages,  in  a  castle  on  the 
Rhine,  for  example,  had  I  been  guilty  of  such  a  crime 
against  a  lady  of  rank  I  should  have  forfeited  my  life, 
—  been  immediately  run  through  with  a  sword  by  one 
of  the  gentlemen  present,  —  and,  perhaps,  should  have 
died  feeling  that  I  was  but  a  just  sacrifice  to  the  indig- 
nation of  what  then  was  good  society.  But  Miss  Ara- 
bella only  looked  at  me  with  the  sweetest  smile  of  the 
evening  (again  because  Miss  Jones  was  not  there),  and 
in  answer  to  my  humble  apologies,  said,  — 

"  '  Oh,  I  beg  you  wont  think  of  it,  Mr.  Lilykid  ;  it  is 
not  of  the  slightest  consequence.' 

"  I  could  not  stop  my  oars,  however,  to  the  fact  that 


26  Little  Brother. 

immediately  after  she  turned  to  the  lady  next  her,  Miss 
Millefleurs,  and  made  use,  in  an  undertone,  of  that  very 
disagreeable  word  from  the  French,  '  Bete  !  '  Very 
well,  to-day,  as  I  said,  that  came  painfully  to  my  mem- 
ory; and,  'pon  honor,  I  vowed  it  should  never  take  place 
again,  or  I  would  doom  myself  to  voluntary  exile  from 
the  society  to  which  I  am  devoted." 

"O  Mr.  Lilykid,  don't  talk  so  dreadfully!  You 
are  the  very  life  of  our  circle  !  " 

"  Mille  ringraziamenti.  donna  bellissima!  I  hope  that 
exile  will  not  be  necessary.  Don't  laugh  at  me  now, 
really,  I  beseech  you,  if  I  tell  you  what  was  my  em- 
ployment for  the  next  hour  after  that  regret  awoke 
in  my  mind.  I  happened  to  remember  the  means  I 
took  when  first,  at  a  very  early  age,  I  resolved  to  devote 
myself  to  our  good  society,  and  trembled  to  think  of 
doing  all  the  gaucheries  which  I  saw  committed  by 
other  gentlemen  upon  ladies'  dresses  with  glasses  of 
Champagne  and  plates  of  cream  and  salad  and  cups  of 
coffee.  I  returned  to  my  quiet  lodgings.  I  locked  my- 
self into  the  privacy  of  my  apartments.  I  took  all  the 
chairs  and  placed  them  in  a  row  with  intervals  of  a  foot 
or  two  between.  Then,  with  a  saucer  full  of  water  in 
each  hand,  I  practised  vaulting  over  them,  one  after  an- 
other, until  I  succeeded  in  accomplishing  it  without 
spilling  a  drop.  This  morning  my  success  was  admira- 
ble; at  the  end  of  an  hour  I  was  able  to  take  one,  two, 
or  five  at  a  spring  without  losing  a  single  globule  from 
the  saucers.  It  is  arduous,  I  know;  it  requires  resolu- 


A  Boy  too  Much.        %  27 

tion,  patience,  perseverance,  but  a  man  devoted  to  good 
society  must,  in  conscience,  have  all  these.  I  shall  do  it 
daily  for  some  time,  and  I  shall  be  abundantly  repaid, 
my  dear  Miss  Jones,  if  next  winter  I  see  the  fruits  of 
my  labor  in  not  offending  against  society  as  I  did  at 
Mrs.  Snugfitte's." 

"  How  few  gentlemen  ever  think  of  us  ladies  and  our 
comfort  as  you  do,  Mr.  Lilykid  !  Let  me  return  you 
my  thanks  on  behalf  of  our  whole  sex  !  Do  you  know 
that  at  that  very  party  at  Mrs.  Tambour's,  which  you 
spoke  of,  I  had  such  a  love  of  a  rose-colored  brocade, 
with  point  lace  Bertha  a  Vlmperatrice,  utterly  ruined  by 
a  plateful  of  oysters  spilled  right  into  my  lap  ?  And 
such  a  curious  coincidence  !  I  made  the  very  same 
remark  as  Miss  Dubblezeppher  to  the  lady  next  me  I 
Oh,  that  lovely  brocade  !  it  was  too  bad  ! " 

"  And  I  never  saw  you  in  it !  It  would  have  ravished 
me  !  You  are  so  beautiful  in  rose  color,  —  pardon  me  ! 
Rose  color  is  so  beautiful  on  you !  Have  another  one 
next  whiter,  and  dub  me  with  your  bouquetiere  its 
guardian  chevalier.  I'll  hover  around  it !  It  shall 
attract  me  as  the  flower  does  the  bee  !  I  shall  watch 
over  it  as  the  angel  guards  the  moss-rose  till  it  blos- 
soms I  And  Jove  !  I'll  call  out  the  man  that  desecrates 
it  with  a  particle  of  anything  to  eat  or  drink  !  " 

"  Ah,  faithful  knight !  you  deserve  worthier  occupa- 
tion for  your  bravery  and  your  vigilance  than  one  poor 
maiden's  party  dress." 

"  !N"ot  at  all.    The  old  knights,  we  hear,  devoted  them- 


28  Little  Brother. 

selves  to  the  redress  of  fair  ladies,  —  I  will  devote  my- 
self to  the  dress  of  one;  he,  he,  he,  he  !  only  a  difference 
of  two  letters  in  favor  of  brevity.  And  if  the  true 
Queen  Rose  shall  smile  upon  her  chevalier  from  above 
the  false  rose,  which  shows  her  beauty  better,  the  happy 
man  will  then  only  feel  that  he  has  a  worthier  commis- 
sion, and  will  dare  to  look  up  and  ask  to  be  dubbed 
again  her  knight." 

As  he  said  this,  Mr.  Lilykid  bowed  reverently  to  the 
lady,  whom  he  had  been  gradually  drawing  nearer  as 
he  waxed  eloquent,  and  taking  her  fair,  soft  hand  in  his 
straw-colored  Jouvin,  pressed  its  rosy  finger-tips  to  his 
mustache. 

Irresistible  sweet  tingling  that  shot  through  Kate's 
young  form  from  those  electric  points  !  "What  rare, 
delicate  politeness  !  what  an  original  grace  has  such 
a  demonstration  as  this  to  the  heart  of  a  young  Ameri- 
can maiden,  though  the  women  of  the  Continent  take  it 
as  such  a  matter  of  fact,  receiving  it  as  the  most  formal 
compliment  fifty  times  a  day !  This  Mr.  Lilykid  was 
such  an  unusually  charming  man  ! 

Mr.  Lilykid  drew  nearer.  He  still  held  the  hand  with 
which  he  had  been  so  rapturous  in  his  own;  it  fluttered 
like  a  little  white  mouse  that  is  very  much  frightened; 
and  Mr.  Lilykid  pressed  it  tighter  to  keep  it  calm.  Mr. 
Lilykid  laid  his  glove  upon  his  watch-pocket,  and 
exhibited  symptoms  of  getting  down  upon  one  knee,  — 
which  light-infantry  movement,  thank  Jove  and  the 
Brooks  Brothers,  was  much  facilitated  by  the  roomy 


A  Boy  too  Much.  29 

cut  of  pantaloons  then  fashionable.  The  trembling  ex- 
tended from  Kate's  hand  to  her  whole  little  frame;  she 
blushed  again,  and  the  rosy  sky  of  her  face  disputed 
possession  with  the  down-dropped  twilight  of  her  eyes; 
she  heard  the  clock  and  her  own  heart  tick  audibly. 

"Come  right  along;  they're  in  here,  and  he'll  be  so 
glad  to  see  you.  Come  along,  papa  I " 

Heavens  !  It  was  that  horrid  Augustus  right  at  the 
door.  Mr.  Lily  kid's  symptoms  took  a  turn;  he  released 
the  little  hand;  he  returned  to  a  position  which  did  not 
bring  in  play  the  peculiar  advantages  of  the  peg-top. 
And  just  in  time;  for  the  door  opened,  and  lo  !  a  stout, 
good-humored  man,  with  an  abundance  of  whiskers,  and 
a  jolly,  play-ferocious  style  of  countenance,  like  a  Lam- 
bro  converted  to  the  domestic  virtues,  loomed  up 
through  the  opening,  preceded  by  the  enfant  terrible 
tugging  at  his  right  little  finger. 

"  Come  right  along,  papa.  They'll  be  so  glad  to  see 
you.  They're  both  in  here.  Come  right  along  ! " 

"  Mr.  Lilykid,  how  d'ye  do,  sir  ?  Hope  I  see  you 
well.  Pleasant  weather  we're  having." 

"  Aw  !  yes,  de-cidedly  1  How  de-do,  Mr.  Jones. 
"We  were  just  speaking  of  you  a  moment  ago;  quite  op- 
portune, —  he,  he,  he  !  " 

Mr.  Jones,  according  to  his  cheerful  domestic  custom, 
kissed  Kate  affectionately,  not  having  seen  her  since 
breakfast,  perhaps  not  at  breakfast,  as  he  went  down- 
town early ;  stripped  off  his  immense  Kaglan,  —  like  the 
Bun  coming  out  of  a  cloud,  or  a  gigantic  orange-peeling 
3* 


30  Little  Brother. 

itself,  for  the  purpose  of  feeling  nice  and  easy,  —  gave  it 
to  Augustus,  who  staggered  out  into  the  entry  in  entire 
eclipse  under  it,  and  hung  it  up  on  the  highest  peg  he 
could  reach,  and  then  sat  down  in  the  most  good-natured 
manner  to  be  the  gentleman  of  whom  John  Crapeau 
says,  — 

"  Deux,  c'est  la  compagnie  —  trois,  c'est  une  fonle." 

If  I  should  record  the  conversation  it  would  not  assist 
the  progress  of  this  story.  How  could  it  assist  the 
progress  of  anything  to  bring  together  three  people, 
two  of  whom  suppose  Panama  to  Jbe  a  manufactory  for 
large  durable  hats,  and  the  remaining  one  of  whom  tells 
said  two  that  Panama  has  gone  up  to  117,  as  if  it  were 
a  piece  of  information  calculated  to  excite  the  liveliest 
emotions  of  pleasure;  but  left  them  ignorant  whether 
Panama  had  floated  to  that  degree  of  latitude,  now 
numbered  so  many  souls  of  population,  or  had  risen  on 
its  hats  to  that  shameful  price  in  specie  ?  How  could  it 
assist  the  progress  of  anything  to  bring  together  two 
people  from  one  world  and  one  from  another,  sympa- 
thizing with  and  contiguous  to  each  other  about  as  near- 
ly as  the  Earth  and  Le  Verrier's  last-discovered  planet, 
unless,  perhaps,  they  wished  information;  and  who 
wants  that,  in  good  society  ? 

So  that  the  only  progress  which  was  assisted  was  Mr. 
Lilykid  to  the  front-door.  With  another  bow,  —  this 
time  from  the  fifth  figure  of  the  Lancers,  where  the 


A  Boy  too  ATtic/i.  31 

partners  meet,  the  music  lulls,  and  the  hands  linger,  — 
Miss  Jones  stood  in  the  parlor  entrance,  and  said,  — 

"  Good-afternoon." 

Mr.  Lilykid  had  the  parlor-door  between  himself  and 
the  intruder  from  the  broker's  world.  Once  out  of 
eclipse  from  that  gross  body,  he  became  ardent  again. 
A  second  time  he  pressed  the  little  trembling  hand  to 
his  lips,  and  murmured,  — 

"  You  asked  what  I  could  do  to  keep  New  York  from 
seeming  dull,  and  yet  you  will  be  here  for  nearly  a  week 
longer  !  My  morning  was  spent  in  duty  ;  my  after- 
noon has  been,  —  oh,  such  a  reward  !  Al  rivedersi  I  " 

And,  accompanied  by  Kate,  the  broker  ascended  to 
the  blissful  domestic  regions,  where  his  wife  was  telling 
Scripture  stories  to  little  Augustus,  who  sat,  listening 
intently,  in  her  lap.  The  history  of  Joseph,  the  good 
boy  who  let  himself  be  put  in  the  closet  rather  than  do 
anything  naughty,  was  interrupted  by  Kate's  enthusi- 
asm on  the  subject  of  that  delightful  man,  Mr.  Lilykid, 

—  much  to  the  little  brother's  disgust,  who  wanted  to 
know  whether  the  sacred  character  kicked,  and  how 
long  he  stayed  before  they  opened  the  door;  and  finally 
ended  by  muttering,  with  his  thumb  in  his  mouth,  — 

"  I  wish  Spindle-shanks  could  be  locked  up  where 
Joseph  was.  You're  always  plaguing  me.  It's  mean, 

—  that's  what  it  is  ! " 

"I  wonder,1'  said  Mr.  Jones,  in  an  absent-minded 
manner,  "  who  this  Mr.  Lilykid  is  ?  " 

"  He's  a  most  charming  man  1 "  answered  Kate. 


32  Little  Brother. 

"  He's  a  big  monkey  !  "  said  the  pleasant  child.  And 
the  ringing  of  the  dinner-bell  prevented  any  arrival 
at  a  compromise  between  these  slightly  differing 
opinions. 


A  Boy  too  Little.  33 


II. 


A  BOY  TOO  LITTLE. 

THE  next  morning,  at  nine  o'clock,  Mr.  Jones  —  hav- 
ing finished  his  omelet,  rolls,  and  coffee,  kissed  his  wife 
and  daughter,  and  entered  his  Kaglan  like  a  brave  man 
investing  a  small  town  all  by  himself — stood  on  his 
front-door  steps  waiting  for  a  stage.  A  ruddy  glow 
suflused  his  wholesome,  energetic  face;  the  morning 
was  cheerful  and  warm  all  around  him;  the  fine  stone 
pavement,  everywhere  fresh  from  its  morning  libation 
at  the  hands  of  hose-holding  footmen  of  opulent  fami- 
lies ;  the  air  was  clear,  and  all  the  purer  for  being 
mingled  with  pleasant  suspicions  of  Liverpool  coal 
smoke;  instead  of  the  morning  birds  which  warbled  far 
up  in  country  woods,  the  stronger- voiced,  but  none  less 
sweet,  melodious  sweeps  poured  their  matin  lay  along 
the  street  as  far  as  ear  could  hear,  echoed  back  by 
portly  free-stone  fronts  that,  in  lieu  of  hills  and  crags, 
stood  bathed  in  the  golden  flush  of  the  early  sun-glory. 
Now  and  then  a  person  with  Hebrew  features  trudged 
by,  with  a  narrow  slat-box  strapped  upon  his  back, 
uttering  a  single  mournful  dove-note,  which  might  be 
variously  construed  as  meaning  that,  by  his  aid,  there 


34  Little  Brother. 

could  be  "  glass  put  in,"  or  that  he  carried  some  choice 
comestible  called  "  glass-pudding,"  and  pleasantly  toning 
with  this  pensive  cry  the  joyous  music  of  the  morning. 
All  was  calculated  to  inspire  a  man  who  had  just  had 
his  breakfast  with  the  most  benevolent  emotions.  Such 
city  mornings  confirm  cockneyism.  I  do  not  wonder 
that  it  is  hard  for  gentlemen  to  get  out  of  town,  when 
there  is  such  an  air  of  civilization  and  nature  mingled 
before  his  very  face,  —  that  birds  and  rivulets  and  dewy 
meads  seem  mere  fanciful  superfluities  of  life,  —  and  the 
country  means  littler  rooms,  damper  sheets,  vulgarer 
people,  and  coarser  fare  than  he  has  at  home.  Wheu 
the  country  means  Potter  County,  Pennsylvania,  or 
White  Lake,  in  Sullivan,  a  deer  coming  down  the  run- 
way before  the  mouthing  dogs,  and  yourself  lying  at  the 
bottom  with  a  trusty  rifle;  when  it  means  a  yacht  on 
the  Hudson,  off  Fire  Island,  or  on  the  waters  around 
Cape  Cod;  when  it  means  John  Brown's  Tract,  or  the 
Adirondacks,  or  the  Green  Mountains,  with  one  of 
Crook's  best  rods,  two  spare  limber  tips,  a  book  of  flies, 
and,  better  yet  (with  an  apology  to  the  shade  of  Her- 
bert), a  tin  box  with  cullender  lid  full  of  active  ground- 
worms, —  then  the  country  is  something  to  be  sighed 
for,  set  store  by,  and  travelled  toward,  via  the  very  first 
lumber- wagon  that  can  be  obtained  at  the  wildest  point 
of  tangency  which  Man's  railroads  make  with  Heaven's 
woods.  But  between  New  York  and  any  country  which 
means  something  short  of  these,  there  is  no  choice  worth 
a  toss-up,  —  except  in  favor  of  Gotham.  And,  alas  !  who 


A  Boy  too  Little.  35 

can  get  to  these  with  a  fashionable  family  ?  Who  can 
persuade  his  wife  and  daughters  to  camp  out  with  him  ? 
Nobody,  —  since  the  old  Hebrew  times,  when,  with  all 
their  wives  and  their  little  ones,  Israel's  gentlemen  bade 
adieu  to  the  bridk  of  the  city,  and  went  out  for  a  day's 
merry-making  that  stretched  through  a  season  of  forty 
years. 

By  this  time  the  stage  is  within  a  block  of  Mr.  Jones's 
curb.  He  is  getting  ready  to  point  his  finger  at  it  when 
the  door  opens  behind  him,  and  Master  Augustus  — just 
risen,  red  and  triumphant,  from  his  morning  bed  of 
martyrdom,  the  bath-tub,  his  morning  crown  of  mar- 
tyrdom, the  comb  —  leaps  out  and  grasps  him  by  the 
skirts. 

"  "Where  are  you  going,  my  dear  papa  ?  " 

With  a  heart  mellowed  by  the  golden  suffusion  of  the 
morning,  the  immense  Raglan  clasped  its  little  son  in 
its  arms  ;  and  the  good-humored,  rosy  mouth  of  the 
broker  above  exclaimed,  with  a  hurried  kiss  on  little 
Mischief's  Spitzenberg  cheeks, — 

"  I  am  fjoincj  to  make  bread  for  my  dear  little  boy  I 
Whist !  Hello,  stage  ! " 

And  Mr.  Jones  the  next  moment  was  climbing  into-the 
writhing  mass  of  morning-paper-reading  business-men 
who,  through  much  tribulation  to  ribs  and  toes,  were 
jolting  down-town. 

"  Going  to  make  bread  for  his  dear  little  boy  ? " 
Master  Augustus  stood  on  the  door-step  until  the  stage 
\vt-nt  out  of  sight  around  the  St.  Germain,  pondering 


36  Little  Brother. 

these  paternal  words.  In  spite  of  what  Mr.  W.  Cowper 
has  seen  fit  to  remark  in  derogation  of 

"  The  child  who  knows  no  better 
Than  to  interpret  by  the  letter 
The  story  of  a  Cock  and  Hull," 

I  must  stick  up  for  the  opinion  that  childhood  is  an  age 
of  literal  interpretation.  Cream-tarts,  at  seven  years 
old,  mean  nothing  more  nor  less  than  cream-tarts,  — just 
so  much  flour,  sugar,  vanilla,  and  whip,  —  and  not  an 
allegory  of  any  kind  whatsoever.  So  that  the  more 
Master  Augustus  reflected,  the  more  did  the  image  sug- 
gest itself  to  him  of  the  burly,  fatherly  figure,  denuded 
of  the  Raglan,  standing  —  with  sleeves  rolled  up,  a 
white  smirch  on  each  cheek,  and  whiskers  well  pow- 
dered —  over  a  gigantic  bread- trough,  kneading  with 
pugilistic  earnestness  a  glutinous  mass  of  the  veritable 
staff  of  life  for  the  beloved  family.  On  little  Mischief's 
mind  the  first  idea  of  what  his  father  did  down-town  was 
now  dawning.  He  made  bread  for  his  little  boy. 

Augustus  shut  the  door  and  went  into  the  house.  A 
greater  antipathy  than  usual  to  words  of  three  syllables 
came  over  him:  he  threw  the  spelling-book  under  the 
bed;  yet  there  was  a  restless  craving  in  his  soul  which 
was  not  satisfied  by  nine-pins,  and  the  young  voluptuary 
found  only  an  aching  void  in  his  box  of  builders'-blocks. 
He  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  more  elevated  happiness 
than  was  ever  dreamed  of  before,  and  that  portion  of 


A  Boy  too  Little.  37 

the  world  which  had  hitherto  satisfied  him  was  now  hol- 
low and  unreal. 

He  descended  to  the  kitchen.  He  marched  up  to  his 
former  terror,  the  cook,  a  fierce  Welshwoman,  whose 

habitual  aspect  toward  a  fiery  range  had  given  her 

I 
cheeks  a  permanent  rouge,  sanguinary  to  look  upon ; 

and  who  had,  at  an  early  period  of  her  engagement  with 
the  family,  relieved  herself  of  Master  Augustus's  onerous 
acquaintance  by  informing  him  that  the  reason  of  her 
leaving  her  last  place  was  the  dissatisfaction  of  the  lady 
at  having  her  bad  little  boy  chopped  up  into  a  hash  one 
day.  But,  emboldened  by  the  consciousness  of  a  high 
aim,  Master  Augustus  advanced  three  steps  into  this 
formidable  person's  domain,  and  in  a  meek  but  firm 
voice  requested  to  be  allowed  to  make  bread.  This 
praiseworthy  demand  being  met  by  no  more  encourag- 
ing reciprocation  than  the  frenzied  charge  upon  him.  of 
the  red-faced  woman  with  a  large  rolling-pin,  the  boy 
retreated  discomfited,  and  sought  his  mother  in  the  sit- 
ting-room. 

"  Mamma,"  said  he,  eagerly,  "  don't  you  want  me  to 
be  like  papa  ?  " 

"  Yes,  my  son.  If  you  grow  up  and  become  such  a 
man  as  he  is  I  shall  be  very  happy." 

"  Well,  I  want  to  be  like  him,  too.  He's  gone  down- 
town to  make  bread  for  his  little  boy  ;  and  that  nasty 
cook  wont  let  me  do  it  in  the  kitchen.  Can  I  do  it  up 
here  ?  " 

Mrs.  Jones  laughed.  But  she  had  an  inventive 
4 


38  Little  Brother. 

genius,  and  was  pleased  with  any  direction  which  Au- 
gustus's inquiries  took,  diverging  from  that  broad  road 
so  much  dreaded  of  mothers,  —  mischief.  So,  in  a  few 
moments  she  improvised,  a  baker's  apparatus  for  her 
son,  giving  him  an  old  valise  for  his  kneading-trough, 
two  or  three  pillows  for  dough,  an  empty  sand-box  for 
a  dredger,  and  a  couple  of  unoccupied  shelves  in  a 
clothes-press  for  his  oven.  Seeing  him  sedately  arrayed 
for  work,  with  one  of  her  white  aprons  pinned  around 
his  neck,  and  his  little  blouse-sleeves  tucked  up  to  his 
shoulders,  she  returned  to  her  writing-desk,  secure,  as 
she  thought,  of  at  least  ten  minutes'  undisturbed  atten- 
tion to  the  letter  she  was  busy  with. 

Master  Augustus  had  worked  away  at  his  trade  with 
such  laudable  assiduity  as  would  have  raised  him  to  the 
side  of  Ephraim  Treadwell,  —  had  made  a  dozen  batch- 
es of  pillow-bread  and  baked  them,  and  made  them 
over  and  baked  them  again,  when  he  began  to  feel  that 
something  was  wanting  to  his  happiness.  There  was  a 
lack  of  verisimilitude  about  pillows,  —  they  did  not 
brown  nicely,  —  and  he  felt  he  was  playing  bake  after 
all.  Still  he  was  a  good  boy,  and  did  not  trouble  his 
mother  with,  requests  for  any  new  suggestions. 
,  In  fact,  Augustus  was  so  quiet  that,  after  the  quarter 
of  an  hour  which  Mrs.  Jones  had  counted  on  had  flown 
by,  —  and  another  quarter  after  that,  —  she  looked  up 
from  her  writing-desk,  of  her  own  accord,  to  see  what 
miracle  had  caused  this  unparalleled  peacefulness.  To 
her  ?urprise  Augustus  was  gone.  The  last  batch  lay  in 


A  Boy  too  Little.  39 

the  valise  unkneaded,  the  sand-box  dredger  was  on  the 
floor,  her  white  apron  hung  on  the  back  of  the  chair, 
and  baking-day  was  evidently  over.  The  mother  went 
to  the  top  of  the  stairs  and  called,  "  Augustus  I  Au- 
</?<s-tus  !  "  No  answer  was  returned.  She  looked  down 
at  the  hat-stand,  —  the  little  wide-awake,  like  the  Pan- 
jandrum "  with  the  little  round  button  at  the  top,"  was 
not  on  any  of  the  pegs.  Perhaps  the  child  was  on  the 
front  balcony,  engaged  in  his  favorite  amusement  of  let- 
ting miners  down  a  shaft,  —  performed  with  two  cats, 
a  basket,  a  piece  of  string,  and  the  front  area.  She 
looked  out  of  the  window, —  no  Augustus  visible.  And 
then  the  thought  struck  her  that  the  naughty  little  boy 
had  gone  out  to  play  in  the  street  with  other  naughty 
little  boys,  contrary  to  her  express  command,  and  to  the 
manifest  violation  of  the  fifth  commandment  and  his 
clean  trousers.  His  having  stolen  away  so  quietly 
from  the  sitting-room  certainly  looked  like  it.  Mrs. 
Jones  rang  the  bell,  and  Johnson  appeared. 

"  Go  out,"  said  his  mistress,  "  and  look  up  and  down 
the  street  for  Master  Augustus.  "When  you  find  him 
say  that  I  want  to  see  him  directly." 

Johnson  obeyed;  and  Mrs.  Jones  sat  down  at  her 
writing-desk  again,  with  a  sad  maternal  sigh. 

She  had  finished  and  was  sealing  another  letter  when 
Johnson  knocked  again  at  the  sitting-room  door. 

"  Come  in  !  "Well,  have  you  only  just  found  Master 
Augustus  ?  " 

"No,  mistress;    hi  'aven't  honly  just  found 'im;    hi 


40  Little  Brother. 

honly  just  'aven't  found  'im  hat  all,  ma'am.  Hi've  been 
hup  hand  down  street  hin  hevery  direction,  hand  looked 
heverywhere  with  hall  rny  heyes,  hand  hi've  hasked 
heverybody  hif  nobody  'aint  seen  nothink  of  no  such 
young  gentleman  nowheres,  and  nobody  'aint.  Hif 
there  vos  somebody  with  a  bell  'ere  has  there  his  in  the 
hold  country,  somethink  might  be  done,  but  "  — 

Here,  at  the  end  of  the  catalogue  of  familiar  means, 
Johnson,  like  most  routine-trained  Englishmen,  came 
to  a  dead  halt,  invention  being  in  its  embryo  stages 
with  him;  and  at  the  same  moment  Mrs.  Jones's  heart 
stopped  also,  and  the  blood  forsook  her  face. 

"  O  Johnson  !  You  don't  mean  to  say  you  think 
Master  Augustus  is  lost  I  " 

"  Hi  can't  say  ma'am.  'E  might  be  ;  then  'e  mightn't. 
Children  his  different:  sometimes  they  his  ;  sometimes 
they  hisn't.  Shall  I  call  the  perlice,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  The  perlice  "  —  which,  to  be  nationally  bigoted 
again,  is  the  British  sovereign  remedy  and  veritable 
Morrison's  pill  for  every  social  distress,  from  the  hissing 
of  a  Puseyite  intoner  down  to  the  settlement  of  canine 
difference  of  opinion  in  an  alley  —  did  not  strike  Mrs. 
Jones  favorably.  She  did  not  like  to  appear  arresting 
the  poor  little  fellow,  —  which  was  the  only  use  she 
knew  for  those  estimable  citizens  in  blue,  led  to 
victory  by  Mr.  Pillsbury.  She  had  the  idea  that  it 
would  make  him  feel  like  a  rascal,  which  she  eccen- 
trically considered  the  front-door  to  being  one.  So  she 
asked,  — 


A  Boy  too  Little.  41 

"  Is  Miss  Jones  in,  do  you  know,  Johnson  ?  " 
"  No,  ma'am  ;  she  went  out  'arf  'n  'our  ago,  ma'am." 
"Ah  !"  said  Mrs.  Jones;   "very  likely  Master  Au- 
gustus may  have  persuaded  her  to  take  him  with  her. 
Nothing  more  for  the  present,  Johnson;    only  wait  in 
the   kitchen,  —  don't   go    out;    I    may  ring    for  you 
again." 

Mrs.  Jones  knew  she  was  deceiving  herself.  It  was 
not  very  likely  that  any  amount  of  persuasion  from  the 
lips  of  the  most  honey-mouthed  orator  could  have  in- 
duced Kate  to  take  Master  Augustus  down-town  with 
her  under  the  most  favorable  circumstances  of  re- 
splendent bil),  tucker,  and  behavior;  and  nothing  short 
of  an  Arabian  Nights'  imagination  could  have  pictured 
that  event  taking  place  under  the  conditions  of  the  play- 
day  suit  and  style  of  manners  in  which  he  had  been 
invested  Avhen  his  mother  last  saw  him.  Still,  all  that 
was  most  motherly  in  the  mother  clung  to  the  hypoth- 
esis as  the  sole  alternative  to  wringing  of  hands,  utter 
dying  down  of  heart,  and  that  dreadful  dissyllable  in  a 
city's  vocabulary,  —  "  Child  Lost  !  " 

Probably  Kate  would  be  at  home  in  an  hour  or  two. 
Within  that  time  Augustus  might  return  of  his  own 
accord ;  at  the  end  of  it  Kate  might  bring  him  back. 
The  mother  would  wait  an  hour  longer  before  she 
let  herself  be  alarmed.  So  she  said.  Yet  how  could 
she  keep  her  promise  ?  She  resumed  her  seat  to  write 
another  letter.  She  set  the  "  New  York  "  down  me- 
chanically at  the  top  of  the  page;  and  before  the  date 
4* 


42  Little  Brother. 

could  follow  it,  her  mind  was  wandering  through  pain- 
ful, misty  mazes  of  speculation,  her  ear  was  listening  to 
every  roll  of  wheels  or  ring  of  footsteps  in  the  street. 
Then  her  eye  grew  faithless  to  the  work  before  her:  it 
was  drawn  by  a  resistless  magnetism  to  the  deserted 
bread-tray:  it  was  fixed  there;  and  a  cruel,  motionless 
fog  appeared  to  rise  before  it,  out  of  which  sometimes 
the  child's  image  peered  for  a  moment,  kneading  away 
quietly  at  the  batch  of  pillows;  and  then,  in  its  place, 
the  dreadful  absence  of  the  child  seemed  taking  a  visi- 
ble shape  in  the  question,  "  Will  he  ever  stand  there 
again  ? "  She  shut  her  desk,  walked  restlessly  across 
the  room,  opened  a  closet-door  as  if  he  might  be  hidden 
there, —  the  little  Mischief !  —  then  came  back  to  the  win- 
dow, lifted  the  sash  and  peered  long-sightedly  up  and 
down  the  street,  with  a  wistful  hope  of  being  surprised 
by  his  far-off  voice  or  figure.  Then  she  sat  down  again, 
resolutely  saying  to  herself,  "  I  will  not  be  alarmed  !  " 
The  very  earnestness  of  the  resolution  alarmed  her  all 
the  more.  She  left  her  room,  mounted  to  the  garret, 
searched  its  crannies,  descended  to  the  basement  and 
the  cellar,  with  all  the  servants  following  her,  and  carry- 
ing out  their  peculiar  ideas  of  being  helpful  by  holding 
candles  where  there  was  plenty  of  light,  and  saying, 
"  Oh  dear  !  "  and  "  Bless  my  soul !  "  like  responses  in  a 
service.  She  sought  behind  barrels  and  boxes  and  bins 
for  the  boy  who  was  not  there.  Then  the  back-yard 
was  ransacked,  as  if  it  had  been  a  very  Titantic  laby- 
rinth, instead  of  a  small,  frank-faced  open  space,  without 


A  Boy  too  Little.  43 

a  hole  where  an  errant  cat  could  hide  itself ;  then  every 
room  and  closet  in  the  first  and  second  stories  was 
invaded,  to  its  very  wainscot  crevices.  And  thus  the 
mother  spent  the  hour  in  which  she  would  not  be 
alarmed  until  Kate  got  home. 

At  last  that  young  lady  came  back.  She  had  been  to 
Stewart's  and  Thompson's.  I  write  that  last  word  with 
a  tear  trickling  from  my  nib  tributary  to  departed 
worth.  Thompson's,  the  extinct  but  not  forgotten  ! 
And  of  course  Augustus  had  not  been  with  her.  She 
calmed  her  mother,  assured  her  that  it  was  only  another 
of  that  boy's  pranks,  and,  without  manifesting  a  heart- 
less insouciance,  still  took  his  absence  so  coolly,  and  was 
so  sure  that  he  would  be  back  presently,  that  Mrs. 
Jones  began  to  distrust  her  own  fears,  and,  for  a  time, 
was  composed  and  hopeful. 

Let  us  see  what  has  befallen  the  little  brother.  Grow- 
ing dissatisfied  with  his  pillow-bread,  this  young  baker 
became  irresistibly  fascinated  with  the  idea  of  going  to 
see  how  his  father  made  it.  Watching  his  opportunity, 
when  his  mother  was  most  absorbed  in  her  letter,  he 
slipped  out  of  the  sitting-room,  downstairs,  out  of  the 
house.  Almost  all  the  way  to  the  St.  Germain  he  ran 
or  skipped  as 'fast  as  his  little  feet  could  carry  him.  He 
took  this  direction  because  it  was  that  which  he  saw  the 
paternal  broker  follow  every  morning,  —  this  gait,  be- 
cause, as  I  have  noticed,  it  seems  to  jolt  the  conscience 
and  keep  it  from  crying  "  Stop  !  "  —  at  least  in  little 
boys  running  away,  —  with  whom  that  organ  bears  the 


44  Little  Brother. 

proportion  to  the  specimens  taken  from  the  mature 
individual  of  10  :  1.  Perhaps  even  this  little  brother 
may  grow  up,  under  kindly  fostering  influences,  to  be  a 
brisk  Bear-Papa,  making  time  sales  of  Michigan  South- 
ern, 600  shares  more  than  there  can  be  in  any  possible 
market,  seller  30  days,  and  a  very  amiable  man  in  his 
family  and  the  church  of  which  he's  a  pew-holder. 

"When  Augustus  came  to  the  St.  Germain,  he  stopped 
for  a  moment  and  looked  up  toward  "Worth's  monu- 
ment, then  down  toward  the  steeple  of  Grace.  For  a 
moment  he  felt  inclined  to  turn  in  the  direction  of  the 
former,  —  it  was  mightily  like  a  big  granite  chimney 
of  some  uncouth  shop  under  ground;  but  just  then 
one  of  the  stages  which  his  papa  patronized  came 
around  the  corner  and  took  its  way  down-town.  This 
settled  him,  and  he  joined  the  great  tide  that  sets  to  the 
bottom  of  the  island.  lie  was  a  sturdy  little  boy,  and 
walking  did  not  easily  tire  him.  After  several  alarms 
of  voices  calling  behind  him,  which  his  fancy,  always 
assisted  by  the  organ  we  have  before  mentioned,  kept 
shaping  into  "  Augustus,  come  back  !  "  or  something  of 
the  same  reproachful  import;  —  after  numerous  distant 
visions  of  black  whiskers  and  big  Raglans  of  the  pater- 
nal cut,  but  sadly  disappointing  him  as  they  drew 
nearer;  after  sundry  bustlings  from  ill-humored  urchins, 
hurrying  men,  spacious  lounging  ladies,  and  busy  work- 
men whose  white  overalls  suggested  to  him  the  supposed 
trade  of  his  father  and  fired  anew  his  young  ambition, — 
he  reached  the  lower  en, 1  of  Union  Square.  Here  he 


A  Boy  too  Little.  45 

made  a  natural  mistake,  —  followed  the  straight  line, 
and  thus  losing  the  Broadway  trail,  kept  on  down  Uni- 
versity place.  In  the  quiet  of  that  street  he  first  saw 
people  disengaged  enough,  as  he  thought,  to  answer 
questions.  A  rosy-cheeked  servant-maid  was  on  her 
knees  at  the  door  of  one  of  the  houses,  diversifying  her 
labor  at  scrubbing  the  freestone  steps  with  occasional 
remarks  of  an  animated  character  to  a  person  who  was 
shooting  coal  through  the  sidewalk  and  letting  the  dust 
scatter  to  counteract  her  soap. 

"  Do  you  know  where  Mr.  Jones  lives  ?  " 

The  maid  stopped  scrubbing  and  leaned  upon  her 
brush ;  likewise  the  coal-heaver,  putting  his  shovel  in 
rest,  and  propping  himself  as  deliberately  on  its  handle 
as  if  he  had  selected  that  attitude  for  the  day,  and  both 
of  them  surveyed  the  little  estray  from  head  to  foot. 

"  What  do  you  want  of  Jones,  sonny  ?  "  finally  spoke 
the  man  of  coal. 

"He  aint  Jones  !  he's  Mister  Jones;  he's  my  father. 
And  I  aint  sonny ;  I  wish  you  wouldn't  call  me  it.  I'm 
Mr.  Jones's  little  boy,  and  I  want  to  find  him.  Say  now ! 
do  you  know  where  he  is  ?  " 

"  What  does  he  do  ?  "  said  the  maid,  in  a  brisk  man- 
ner, and  fixing  her  black  eyes  resolutely  on  the  child  as 
if  he  would  like  to  deceive  her  if  he  dared,  but  she 
wouldn't  have  any  of  it.  "  What  does  he  do,  now  ?  does 
he  take  in  washing  ?  " 

"  Washing  !  "  ejaculated  Augustus,  with  a  smile  of 
supreme  scorn.  "  We've  got  a  girl  like  you  who  does 


46  Little  Brother. 

our  washing;  I  guess  he  don't  do  that !  He  does  some- 
thing an  awful  lot  better  than  that,  —  and  I'm  going  to 
see  him  and  ask  if  I  can't  do  it,  too." 

"  "What  is  it  he  does  do,  then  ?  "  said  the  coalman,  and 
both  he  and  the  maid  regarded  the  child  with  increased 
curiosity,  mingled  with  somewhat  of  respect. 

Master  Augustus  drew  himself  up  to  his  full  height  of 
three .  and  a  half  feet,  and  replied,  in  a  dignified  man- 
ner,— 

"He  makes  bread;  that's  what  Mr.  Jones  does  ! " 

"  Oh,"  said  the  coalman,  visibly  relieved  from  the 
strain  on  his  bump  of  reverence,  "  he  makes  bread,  does 
he  ?  "  And  simultaneously  both  he  and  the  maid  broke 
into  a  loud  laugh  very  disagreeable  to  Master  Augustus, 
and  uttered  the  words  "  Jones  the  baker,"  as  if  it  were 
the  richest  joke  of  the  season. 

"  He  don't  put  no  alum  nor  sody  into  his  bread,  does 
he,  sonny  ?  "  suggested  the  coalman,  pleasantly.  "  He, 
he,  he,  he  ! "  said  the  housemaid.  To  all  of  which  Master 
Augustus  replied,  sullenly,  "  ISTone  of  your  business  ! " 
and  continued  on  his  unassisted  journey  down  the  street. 
For  a  long  time  his  wounded  pride  prevented,  him  from 
asking  any  further  questions.  He  passed  the  Parade 
Ground,  and  University  place  was  University  place  no 
more,  but  Wooster  street,  —  a  thoroughfare  unlike  any- 
thing he  had  ever  seen  before,  and  growing  stranger  and 
stranger  with  every  step.  Smells  intensified,  and  his 
childish  nose  waxed  more  and  more  retrousse  as  it  grew 
acquainted  with  adjacent  stables  and  cabbage  nearly  as 


A  Boy  too  Little.  47 

old  as  himself.  He  had  seen  dirty  little  boys  before,  and 
played  with  them,  to  the  utter  horrof  of  his  sister  and 
her  renunciation  of  his  acquaintance  till  he  was  new 
scrubbed  and  clothed.  He  had  even  wished  he  could  be 
like  them  in  their  emancipation  from  soap  and  combs; 
but  he  had  never  seen  such  dirty  little  boys  as  he  met 
now,  and  he  was  cured  of  all  pining  after  their  inherit- 
ance. In  the  country,  in  summer,  he  had  loved  pigs,  — 
had,  on  one  occasion,  captured  and  brought  a  very  little 
one  into  the  parlor;  but  his  heart  went  not  out  to  these 
pigs,  —  the  pigs  of  "Wooster  street,  —  foul,  dissipated 
beasts,  with  blear,  besotted  eyes,  who  ever  and  anon  is- 
sued from  yards  where  they  seemed  to  have  been  getting 
intoxicated  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours  on  fermented 
potato-peelings,  and  staggered  in  a  half-vicious,  half- 
imbecile  manner  toward  the  gutter,  attempting  to  force 
a  passage  on  the  way  between  the  little  legs  of  Mr.  Jones's 
littleboy.  There  were  truculent,  cowardly  dogs  that  ran 
off  a  little  way  with  a  snarl  and  then  turned  to  see  if  there 
wasn't  a  chance  of  getting  a  nab  at  his  plump  little 
calves  before  they  betook  themselves  utterly  into  -the 
dirty,  open  entries  of  their  owners ;  there  were  women 
with  gin-reddened  eyes  pressing  dirty  torn  shirts  on 
boards  behind  broken  windows,  who  seemed  to  be  con- 
sidering the  question  of  throwing  their  irons  at  him; 
and  a  one-eyed' man,  who  sat  on  the  rickety  steps  of  an 
old  crow's-nesty,  mouldy,  tumble-down  tenement  house, 
smoking  a  black  pipe,  two  inches  short,  looked  so  re- 
markably like  the  ogre  in  one  of  his  picture-books  that 


48  Little  Brother. 

Master  Augustus  dodged  around  him  into  the  middle  of 
the  street,  and  when  he  cried  after  him  in  a  hoarse  voice, 
"  Where'er  ye  goin',  bub  ?  "  took  to  his  heels  and  ran, 
with  his  heart  beating  like  a  baby  trip-hammer,  for  at 
least  two  blocks  before  he  dared  to  stop  and  look  around. 
"What  with  fright  and  the  natural  emptiness  of  inte- 
rior which  periodically  attacks  the  species  at  an  age 
when  the  affinity  for  pie  and  bread-and-butter  is  still 
dominant,  Master  Augustus  was  now  reasonably  enough 
in  somewhat  low  spirits.  Add  to  these  influences  the 
fact  that  he  was  now  doing  the  longest  distance  in  the 
shortest  time  that  he  had  ever  performed  in  his  life,  and 
we  can  excuse  him  for  feeling  the  bricks  move  up  to 
meet  his  feet  as  he  went  —  for  wanting  to  sit  down  some- 
where and  take  something  solid.  Still  he  did  not  give 
way  to  tears.  The  idea  of  New  York  in  all  its  wild, 
labyrinthic  bigness  had  not  yet  broken  upon  his  mind, 
and  he  consoled  himself  by  believing  that  his  father 
must  be  very  near,  and  that  that  bread-making  individ- 
ual would  doubtless,  like  the  parent  of  the  other  prodi- 
gal son,  "  have  bread  enough  and  to  spare,"  with  very 
likely  a  cream-tart  or  two  to  compensate  for  the  absence 
of  butter.  Moreover,  he  was  a  child  of  sturdy  pluck, 
without  much  water  that  he  ever  cared  to  throw  away  ex- 
cept that  which  he  had  to  be  washed  in ;  and  when  his 
heart  billowed  up  towards  his  eyes,  the  grand  notion  of 
seeing  how  his  father  made  bread,  and  learning  to  do  it 
himself,  choked  the  refractory  organ  down,  and  cheered 
on  his  tired  feet. 


A  Boy  too  Little.  49 

But  at  last  he  must  rest.  A  hospitable-looking  door- 
step, with  no  Wooster  street  pigs,  adjacent  stables,  cross 
dogs,  or  children  with  dirt  on  their  faces  of  more  than 
three  days'  antiquity,  allured  him,  and  he  sat  down.  A 
good,  motherly-looking  Irish  woman  saw  him  from  the 
window,  opened  it,  and  said,  compassionately, — 

"  An'  where  is  it  ye're  sthraying,  me  poor  little  bye  ?  " 

Augustus  took  courage  and  answered  that  he  was 
going  to  look  for  his  father. 

"  An'  who's  that,  thin  ?  "  continued  his  kind  interlocu- 
tor. 

"His  name  is  Mr.  Jones  —  and  —  and"  —  Augustus 
hesitated,  remembering  the  coalman's  impudent  disre- 
gard for  the  profession  ;  but  the  affectionate,  interested, 
face,  in  its  white  frill  cap,  won  his  confidence. 

"And  he  makes  bread,  that's  what  Mister  Jones 
does." 

"  An  what's  his  first  name'  darlint  ?  There's  a  dale 
of  Joneses  hereabouts,  and  some  of  thim  has  a  way  of 
bein'  called  John,  —  faith,  most  of  thim,  indade;  is  your 
father  John  Jones  ?  " 

"  !N"o  ma'am,  his  name's  Augustus,  and  I'm  called  after 
him  ;  and  I'm  going  to  see  him  make  bread,  and  to  learn 
how  myself.  And  if  you'll  tell  me  where  he  is, — "oh,  I'll 
be  so  much  obliged  to  you  !  " 

"  Poor  little  darlint  ;  and  are  ye  a  great  way  from 
home,  sure  ?  Ye're  a  very  dacent  little  gintleman,  and 
it  aint  from  these  parts  ye  are,  I'll  go  bail." 

"  I  guess   I   am   a   good   way   from   home.     I   came 


50  Little  Brother. 

through  an  awful  lot  of  streets;  but  I  must  be  pretty 
near  papa  now,  and  when  I  find  him,  oh,  Jiminy  !  wont 
it  be  jolly  though  !  " 

As  his  heart  warmed  towards  the  good  woman,  Mas- 
ter Augustus  became  more  and  more  at  ease  and  in- 
spirited to  a  degree  which  quite  made  him  forget  his 
hunger  and  fatigue.  It  did  not  have  that  effect,  however, 
upon  the  kind  soul  who  talked  to  him.  She  saw  the  din- 
nerless  look  in  his  eye,  and  asked  him  to  come  in  for  a 
little  while,  —  an  invitation  which  he  willingly  accepted. 
Then  she  brought  out  the  "cold  pork  and  praties," 
and  the  hard,  sweet  home-made  loaf  which  a  good  wo- 
man will  always  make  good,  and  which  everybody  not 
utterly  demented  would  rather  have  than  the  best  of 
baker's  bread,  and  Master  Augustus  made  a  kingly 
meal.  This  over,  he  thanked  the  kind  woman,  and,  in 
spite  of  her  utmost  persuasions,  started  anew  in  search 
of  his  father. 

It  would  take  too  long  to  trace  through  all  his  wander- 
ings this  poor  little  journeyman  baker,  —  mentioning 
every  street  that  successively  and  progressively  he  got 
more  and  more  lost  in.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  twi- 
light came  on  and  found  him  in  that  dreary  kennel 
known  as  Thomas  street.  Broadway,  with  all  its  splen- 
dor and  its  publicity,  is  close  at  hand;  Thomas  street, 
with  its  filth  and  its  secret  dens,  where  all  sorts  of  corrup- 
tion of  soul  and  body  lurk  and  fester,  in  spite  of  its  mag- 
nificent neighborhood  to  the  king  of  streets,  is  as  grim 
and  pestilential  as  any  alley  or  morass  miles  away.  I 


A  Boy  too  Little.  51 

believe  its  very  nearness  to  Broadway  makes  it  worse  : 
it  is  a  sort  of  gutter  just  over  the  fence  of  Splendor's  and 
Decency's  back-yard, — a  sort  of  rubbish-heap,  where 
Christian  Kespectability  throws  all  its  outcast  parings 
of  Humanity  that  are  too  foul  to  be  beheld  in  front  and 
in  daylight.  I  have  seen  such  beautiful  women  and  chil- 
dren, nevertheless,  in  Thomas  street,  looking  out  of 
black,  filthy  entries  ;  the  boards  of  the  threshold  rotten 
under  their  feet,  the  dews  of  corruption  trickling  down 
on  them  from  the  slimy  eaves  above,  as  in  a  charnel- 
house,  and  they  themselves  having  such  a  look  of  fierce 
despair  on  lips  and  foreheads  which  a  gallant  may  once 
have  kissed  reverently,  passionately  !  What  strange, 
wonderful  jewels,  thrown  out  of  their  setting  to  the 
swine  for  one  small  flaw,  sometimes  get  cast  into  Re- 
spectability's rubbish-heap  !  When  I  have  gone  from 
Broadway,  where  I  have  seen  beautiful  women  walking 
or  riding  in  glory,  into  Thomas  street,  where  I  have 
seen  those  other  beautiful  ones,  and  have  thought  my 
thoughts  about  Thomas  street  and  its  suggestions,  it  has 
become  the  hatefulest  street  in  all  ]STew  York  to  me. 

As  I  said,  in  this  horrible  street  poor  Augustus  found 
himself  at  nightfall,  with  his  little  feet  a  couple  of  the 
sorest  burning  blisters,  his  whole  body  exhausted  by 
fatigue  and  the  recurrence  of  hunger,  his  heart  sunk  to 
zero,  and  his  mind  a  perfect  chaos  of  bewilderment.  He 
had  asked  questions  about  "  Mr.  Jones  who  made  bread  " 
of  so  many  men,  women,  and  children,  within  the  last 
two  hours,  and  in  such  a  broken-hearted  carelessness  as 


52  Little  Brother. 

to  whether  the  answer  were  impudent  or  not,  and  had 
received  so  much  varied  information  upon  the  subject  of 
different  members  of  the  Jones  family,  that  he  began  to 
feel  himself  going  crazy  in  a  great  wilderness  of  Joneses, 
in  which  every  separate  tree,  as  in  a  vast  forest,  is  like 
every  other,  yet  different  also,  and  none  of  them  familiar, 
homelike,  or  in  any  way  reliable  as  a  guide.  If  he  had 
been  older  and  metaphysical,  the  poor  child  would  have 
described  himself  as  losing  his  identity.  In  this  horrible 
Thomas  street,  among  the  huddled  negresses  and  white 
women  painted  and  blowsy,  —  the  hustling,  drunken 
white  men  and  strapping  buck-negroes,  —  the  vicious, 
shrieking  children,  the  universal  array  of  horrible  sights 
and  sounds,  animate  and  inanimate,  in  this  horrible 
Thomas  street,  —  Augustus  came  to  a  stand-still,  and  for 
the  first  time  long-menacing  despair  now  ascended  the 
throne.  Tears  of  fear,  contrition,  bodily  distress  began 
to  flow  without  measure.  He  thought  of  the  mother 
whom  he  had  left  to  go  after  his  father,  and  his  tears 
became  stih1  bitterer.  As  he  realized  the  agony  she 
must  be  in,  and  the  impossibility  of  his  ever  finding  his 
way  back  to  her  over  the  great  distance  he  had  come, 
the  bigness  of  !N"ew  York,  the  cruel,  hopeless  bigness,  for 
the  first  time  in  life  broke  upon  him,  and  he  sat  down  in 
abject  misery  on  the  sidewalk  as  any  dirtiest  of  the  little 
boys  in  Thomas  street  would  have  done.  No  longer 
did  he  hope  to  find  his  father;  he  knew  that  good  man 
was  at  home  hours  ago,  sharing  the  family  distraction; 
but  still  to  every  ruder  or  kinder  soul  that  questioned 


A  Boy   too  Little.  53 

him  as  be  sat  with  his  feet  in  the  gutter,  weeping,  he 
replied,  mechanically,  — 

"  My  papa  is  Mr.  Jones,  and  he  makes  bread." 

We  leave  the  poor  child  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
Thomas  street,  while  we  return  to  the  distressed  house- 
hold who  are  mourning  for  him. 

Gradually  even  Kate  became  alarmed  when  an  hour 
had  elapsed  after  her  return  from  down-town  and  no 
signs  were  visible  of  Augustus.  She  accordingly  ad- 
vised her  mother  to  adopt  the  following  plan,  and  helped 
her  carry  it  out:  Johnson  was  to  take  a  certain  list  of 
their  acquaintance,  she  and  her  mother  a  certain  other, 
and  they  were  to  call  and  inquire  if  anything  had 
been  seen,  at  the  several  houses,  of  the  little  brother. 
This  idea  was  accomplished,  but,  of  course,  with  no 
success. 

Kate  then  thought  she  had  better  become  hysterical; 
but  upon  her  mother's  representing  to  her  how  much 
more  useful  she  could  be  by  retaining  her  self-posses- 
sion, and  h'ow  very  much  she  would  be  in  the  way  if  she 
didn't,  the  young  lady  denied  herself  the  pleasure,  and 
came  out  in  such  character,  —  such  admirably  womanly 
strength  and  helpfulness,  —  that  her  mother  was  per- 
fectly astonished,  and  couldn't  sufficiently  reverence  her 
never  before  appreciated  daughter. 

The  next  thing  they  did  was  to  dispatch  Johnson  in  a 
carriage  for  Mr.  Jones;  and  then  Kate  sat  down  on  a 
sofa,  and  laid  her  mother's  head  upon  her  breast. 

"  Darling,   darling  mother  ! "   said  the    young    girl, 


54  Little  Brother. 

"  perhaps  this  trouble  is  only  to  punish  me  for  having 
been  so  often  unkind  to  little  Augustus,  and  to  teach  me 
that  I  ought  to  conquer  my  selfish  heart,  and  aid  you 
a  great  deal  more  faithfully  in  taking  care  of  him.  I 
will  learn  the  lesson;  and  then  brother  will  be  brought 
back  to  us,  and  we  shall  be  a  much  happier,  more  loving 
family  than  we  have  ever  been  before.  Don't  despair, 
darling;  the  Lord  will  not  take  the  dear  child  away  from 
us,  I  am  sure,  if  I  try  to  profit  by  this  trouble." 

Such  things,  and  many  others  as  good  and  noble,  did 
Kate  say,  in  a  broken,  feverish  voice,  but  with  an  at- 
tempt at  being  very  cheerful,  —  stroking  her  mother's 
fair,  hot  forehead,  and  kissing  away  the  tears  of  unspeak- 
able distress  that  kept  welling  up  into  her  beautiful  eyes, 
while  she  hurriedly  wiped  away  and  hid  those  that  came 
into  her  own. 

In  about  an  hour  —  for  the  carriage  had  orders  to 
drive  as  fast  as  possible  —  Mr.  Jones  got  home.  He 
had  not  been  in  his  office,  and  Johnson  had  found  it 
necessary  to  seek  him  at  the  Brokers'  Board.  He  took 
his  darling  wife  and  daughter  into  the  bosom  of  the  vast 
Kaglan,  and  kissed  them  again  and  again  with  the  re- 
doubled tenderness  of  great  trouble,  too  choked  to  speak. 
When,  at  length,  he  found  words,  they  came  from  his 
heart  all  wet, — as  if  they  had  just  struggled  ashore,  half- 
drowned,  from  the  great  sea  within  him,  and  were  drip- 
ping with  the  brine  that  still  heaved  and  shook  his  great, 
broad  man's  breast 

"  Dearest  wife,  —  dearest  Kate  !  don't  you  cry,  my 


A  Boy  too  Little.  55 

larlings,"  he  uttered  in  a  trembling  voice,  falsifying  his 
loctrine  by  his  example.  "  We'll  find  that  precious  boy, 
if  we  have  to  take  all  the  detective  police  into  pay,  and 
get  broke  or  die  doing  it.  I'll  go  directly  to  the  police- 
station  of  this  precinct,  and  have  the  little  fellow's  de- 
scription telegraphed  all  over  the  city,  with  offers  of  a 
reward  of  five  hundred  dollars  to  the  officer  that  brings 
him  home." 

j$o  sooner  said  than  done.  The  carriage  that  had 
brought  the  father  up  from  Wall  street  was  at  the  door, 
kept  in  waiting.  He  leaped  into  it,  and  was  speedily 
at  the  elbow  of  the  telegraph  operator  of  the  nearest 
station. 

"  Don't  alarm  yourself  too  much,  my  dear  sir,"  spoke 
that  person,  sympathizingly;  "  these  things  are  happen- 
ing every  day,  and  they  always  turn  out  well  in  the  end. 
This  little  brass  jumper  at  the  end  of  our  wire  saved 
forty  children  last  month;  and  in  all  the  time  that  the 
telegraph's  been  working  we've  only  lost  two  out  of 
several  hundred  children  who  got  astray.  Three  of  the 
forty  we  saved  in  April  were  gone  a  couple  of  days, — 
one,  a  whole  week.  He  got  on  a  train  going  up  the 
Hudson  River  Railroad.  Mother  went  nearly  crazy,  — 
not  expected  to  live  from  day  to  day;  but  we  found 
the  little  youngster,  and  brought  him  home  safe  and 
sound.  Mother  recovered  in  about  ten  minutes,  —  then 
nearly  died  again  for  joy.  First  day  she  was  able  to  be 
out,  came  up  here,  and  wanted  me  to  take  a  hundred 
dollars.  Much  obliged,  but  rather  not  Duty  was  its 


56  Little  Brother. 

own  reward.  Then  she  fell  to  kiss-ing  everything,  — 
kissed  the  machine, —  kissed  the  policeman  who  brought 
the  boy  back, —  actually  kissed  me  !  "  And  the  opera- 
tor smacked  his  lips  as  if  the  taste  of  the  grateful  tribute 
still  lingered;  then  fell  to  work,  —  went  click-click-click- 
click-click-click-click-click  for  a  few  assiduous  minutes, 
—  and  lo  !  every  police-station  in  ]S"ew  York  was  intro- 
duced to  Master  Augustus  Jones,  and  bent  its  multi- 
plied energies  to  the  work  of  finding  him. 

"Wonderful,  beneficent,  omnipotent  telegraph  !  What 
marvel  that  mothers  kiss  thee  ?  And  though  the  grace- 
less, ungrateful  tribe  of  intellectual  prigs,  and  the  hair- 
splitters  of  the  Supreme  Court  who  back  them,  harass 
with  endless  patent  cases  the  siver  hairs  of  our  noble, 
thrice-beloved  Morse,  —  though  America  leaves  to  for- 
eign powers  the  graceful  privilege  of  recompensing  the 
last  years  of  a  life  of  unselfish  genius,  as  fully  as  the 
mere  money-tribute  of  a  hundred  thousand  francs  can 
do  it,  —  does  not  every  click  of  his  offspring's  electric 
tongue  that  brings  home  a  wandering  child  throb  a 
sweet  note  of  reward  in  the  great  philosopher's  loving 
heart,  —  does  not  the  whole  nation  of  thankful  mothers 
bless  him  and  kiss  him  a  thousand  times  a  year  ? 

Mr.  Jones  made  an  arrangement  with  the  telegraph 
operator  that  the  moment  that  any  news  came  to  the 
station  of  the  child,  or  the  likelihood  of  the  child,  it 
should  be  immediately  sent  to  Xo.  —  West  Twenty- 
third  street;  and  then  went  home  to  do  what  he  could, 
poor  man!  for  his  broken-hearted  wife  and  only  lr>s 


A  Boy  too  Little.  57 

broken-hearted  daughter.  There  was  no  resource  left 
for  them  but  to  wait;  and  waiting,  when  a  child  is  lost, 
is  the  bitterest  mode  of  prolonging  misery.  To  be  sure 
all  the  resources  of  the  great  police  system  of  the  great 
city  of  Xew  York  were  concentrated  on  that  one  little 
boy.  The  original  use  of  the  system  —  rascal-hunting 
—  could  not  have  so  brought  it  to  a  focus;  if  Master 
Augustus  had  been  a  noted  bank-defaulter,  or  a  swin- 
dler of  stockholders,  he  would  have  had  less  personal  at- 
tention to  boast  of.  Everything  that  could  be  done  was 
doing  for  him;  and  yet,  as  that  father,  mother,  and  sister 
sat  still  in  their  distress,  they  were  full  of  the  keenest 
self-reproachings,  —  of  a  sense  of  inertness  which  seemed 
to  them,  by  a  strange  paradox,  the  more  unfeeling  in 
proportion  as  their  feelings  were  more  harassed  by  it. 

Hour  after  hour  dragged  on,  and  still  no  word  came 
from  the  station.  The  poor  mother  began  wandering 
about  in  a  frenzy.  From  room  to  room,  wherever  Au- 
gustus had  played,  she  strayed  witlx.  her  eyes  full  of 
a  dreamy,  misty  pain.  When  she  came  upon  some  little 
toy  with  which  he  had  played,  she  snatched  it  up,  kissed 
it  passionately,  and  her  tears  came  pouring  in  torrents. 
Standing  before  a  little  pastel  picture  of  the  child,  taken 
in  his  fourth  year,  she  grew  transfixed,  and  remained 
motionless,  gazing  at  it  in  such  an  agonized  silence  that 
she  could  hear  every  beat  of  her  own  heart.  And  then 
she  knelt  at  the  little  bureau  where  his  tiny  clothes  were 
kept, —  drew  out,  one  by  one,  the  manikin  suits  which 
her  motherly  care  had  proudly  embroidered  for  him, — 


58  Little  Brother. 

examined  his  small  stockings,  and,  as  she  saw  the  places 
where  his  little,  restless  feet  had  called  her  needle  into 
play,  asked  herself,  with  a  fearful  sinking  of  the  heart, 
whether  she  should  ever  mend  them  for  him  any  more; 
and  again  the  passionate  tears  blinded  her  poor  eyes. 

Kate  had  thrown  herself  upon  her  bed.  She  could 
not  cry,  for  her  self-reprovings  were  too  stern.  She 
buried  her  hot  face  in  her  pillow,  pressed  one  hand 
against  her  aching  heart,  and  with  the  other  ceaselessly 
pushed  away  her  long  dark  hair  from  her  forehead,  as  if 
it  were  hated  evidence  of  the  pride  and  accomplice  of  the 
selfishness  which  her  bitter  mentor  now  told  her  had  so 
often  done  wrong  to  the  poor  little  lost  brother  she 
might  never  see  again. 

The  father  paced  all  the  rooms  where  his  wife  wan- 
dered, with  a  stern  wretchedness  in  his  once  cheerful, 
buoyant  face,  hardly  ever  able  to  speak  a  word,  and 
chiding  himself  when  it  had  been  spoken;  for  it  always 
sounded  so  cold,  so  hard  to  his  burthened  heart,  that  it 
seemed  a  cruelty  rather  than  a  consolation  to  the  suf- 
fering woman  whom  he  loved. 

At  last  they  all  came  together  at  the  side  of  the  bed 
where  Kate  was  lying.  The  husband  and  the  wife  both 
dropped  on  their  knees,  and  the  strong  man  poured  forth 
his  soul  in  this  one  prayer  of  agony,  — 

"  O  G-od  !  save  our  child,  and  take  away  all  our 
worldly  prosperity  if  thou  wilt !  " 

Clasping  each  other's  hands  the  three  bowed  there  in 
silence,  each  thinking  the  continuation  of  this  prayer 


A  Boy  too  Little.  59 

which  they  had  no  voice  to  speak.    For  several  minutes 
they  remained  there,  and  then  the  mother  arose. 

"  My  husband,"  she  said, "  I  shall  die  of  this  suspense. 
Let  us  go  up  to  the  station  again." 

Johnson  once  more  called  a  carriage.  Father,  mother, 
and  daughter  got  into  it;  the  driver  was  ordered  to 
hurry  to  the  station-house  at  his  utmost  speed.  When 
they  reached  there  they  ran  up  the  narrow  stairs  to  the 
telegraph  room  with  a  lightness  like  that  of  the  strong- 
est, most  refreshed  feet.  As  might  have  been  expected, 
there  was  no  encouragement  there  for  them,  except  the 
repeated  injunction  of  the  operator  not  to  despair,  and 
his  recital  to  the  mother  and  sister  of  the  statistics  in 
favor  of  finding  lost  children,  which  he  had  given  to  the 
father  three  hours  before. 

••  We  have  news  of  several  boys  and  one  girl,  already 
this  afternoon,"  said  the  operator;  "the  girl  was  lost 
last  night,  the  boys  this  morning.  It  takes  a  good  deal 
longer  to  find  girls  than  it  does  boys,  because  a  girl  is 
more  helpless  when  she's  astray,  —  so's  more  pitied,  and 
often  gets  taken  in  somewhere  and  sheltered,  instead  of 
being  left  for  the  policeman  to  bring  to  the  station. 
That  makes  it  a  harder  job  to  find  her.  You  feel  bad 
enough,  mum,  about  your  boy,  I  know;  but  it's  a  great 
deal  better  than  if  it  was  a  girl.  "We'll  find  him  for  you 
any  way.  Lord  bless  me  !  there  aint  a  chance  as  big 
as  that  of  his  being  lost  permanently; "  and  the  operator 
filliped  away  a  piece  of  string  that  he  had  been  toying 
with  as  he  talked,  to  represent  the  very  small  chance 
indeed. 


60  Little  Brother. 

Then  the  distressed  three  returned  home  again.  Six 
o'clock  and  dinner-time  came,  but  nobody  touched  a 
mouthful.  Bearing  the  agony  of  suspense  as  strongly 
as  they  were  able,  they  passed  the  hours  of  growing 
darkness  till  nine  o'clock;  and  then,  from  sheer  ex- 
haustion, the  mother  and  sister  of  the  wanderer  were 
compelled  to  lie  down.  The  father  sat  and  watched  by 
their  bedside,  or  paced  the  dreary  rooms,  whose  empti- 
ness of  the  one  absent  seemed  to  make  them  echo  to  his 
tread,  "  Lost !  lost ! " 

To  return  to  the  curb-stone  where  we  left  Master  Au- 
gustus sitting.  About  ten  o'clock  there  issued  from  the 
tenement  in  Thomas  street,  just  behind  him,  a  young 
man,  whose  general  appearance  was  strangely  at  va- 
riance with  the  surroundings  of  the  place.  He  wore  a 
.  black  Koesuth  hat,  neat  dark  pantaloons,  well-polished 
boots,  and  a  light  surtout;  for  the  evening  was  cool, 
though  toward  the  end  of  May.  His  face  was  refined, 
manly,  and  resolute;  his  eyes  and  hair  black  as  jet,  and 
his  beard  strong,  curling,  and  abundant;  and  he  seemed 
about  twenty-six  years  old.  A  squalid  woman,  very 
much  draggled  and  torn,  lighted  him,  or  perhaps  smoked 
him  would  be  more  accurate,  to  the  rotten  threshold, 
with  a  malodorous,  half-penny  tallow-candle,  that  stewed 
and  dripped  in  its  own  ruins,  like  everything  else  in 
Thomas  street.  In  a  strong  Milesian  brogue  she  asked 
him,  as  he  was  passing  out, — 

"  An'  what  may  yer  bill  be,  docthor  ?  " 

"Nothing,"  said  the  young  man,  "except  to  promise 


A'  Boy  loo  Little.  61 

me  that  if  that  baby  lives,  —  which  I  hope  it  is  likely 
to  do  now,  —  you  wont  get  drunk  again  till  it's  over 
teething." 

"•  Houly  Mother  bless  ye,  but  ye're  a  dacent  gintle- 
man;  and  may  ye  niver  want  a  friend  in  disthress  !  No 
more  I  wont,  and  that's  thrue  for  me :  an'  if  I  does  it, 
may  the  divil  "  — 

"  Never  mind  the  devil, — you've  had  enough  to  do  with 
him  already,  Mrs.  Murtagh;  only  remember  not  to 
drink." 

"  Good-night,  thin;  angels  bliss  yer  sleep,  honey  !  " 

"  Good-night !  " 

He  was  about  turning  up  toward  the  hospital,  when 
the  strange  little  object  on  the  curb-stone  attracted  him, 
and  he  stopped,  bent  down,  and  looked  intently  at  Mas- 
ter Augustus.  "  It  can't  be  possible,  even  in  Thomas 
street,"  soliloquized  the  young  doctor,  "  that  a  boy  of 
that  age  is  lying  here  drunk  at  this  time  of  the  even- 
ing." He  shook  the  little  fellow  gently  by  the  shoulder, 
and  roiised  him  from  his  sleep  against  the  friendly  hy- 
drant, which  had  been  his  pillow  for  the  hour  and  a 
half  past.  Augustus  awaked  and  looked  at  him  dream- 
ily, not  realizing  where  he  was.  The  young  man  im- 
mediately saw  that  he  hailed  from  none  of  the  Thomas 
street  houses. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  my  little  fellow  ?  You'll 
be  lost  if  you  stay  out  so  late;  you  had  better  go  home 
to  your  mother;  she's  frightened  about  you  now,  I've 
no  doubt." 

8 


62  Little  Brother. 

Augustus  stared  in  surprise. 

"  Do  you  know  my  mother  ?  " 

"  No,  I  don't,  my  boy." 

"  How  do  you  know  I've  got  one,  then  ?  "  asked  Au- 
gustus, triumphantly,  in  spite  of  his  sleepiness,  and  true 
to  his  native  fondness  for  always  "  putting  in  a  clincher." 

"  I  think  you  look  as  if  you  had  one.  She  made  that 
little  pair  of  pantaloons  which  you've  been  getting  so 
dirty  on  the  pavement  by  sitting  down  and  going  to 
sleep  here,  instead  of  saying  your  prayers  and  climbing 
into  your  pretty  little  crib." 

"Crib  !"  muttered  Augustus,  scornfully;  "I  guess  I 
aint  a  baby  !  I  sleep  in  a  great  big  bed,  —  all  alone  by 
myself.  "Who  are  you,  anyhow  ?  " 

"My  name  is  Doctor  Morris;  and  I'm  a  good  friend 
to  you  and  your  mother,  for  I'm  going  to  help  you  to 
get  home.  Where  do  you  live  ?  —  what's  your  name  ?  " 

"  Augustus  Jones." 

"  Where  do  you  live,  Augustus  ?  " 

"  I  live  at  my  papa's,  —  he's  Mr.  Jones,  and  he 
lives  up  in  Twenty-third  street." 

"  Do  you  know  what  the  number  is  ?  " 

"No,  sir." 

"  What  does  your  papa  do  ?  " 

"  He  makes  bread." 

"  Oh  !  we'll  find  him  very  easily,  then.  Are  you  too 
tired  to  walk  ?  You  must  be  if  you've  come  with  those 
little  legs  all  the  way  from  home  to-day.  Let  me  carry 
you." 


A  Boy  too  Little.  63 

"No, I  can  walk." 

""Weil,  come  along,  then.  "We'll  go  and  get  a  Di- 
rectory, and  see  the  number  where  your  papa  lives, 
and  then  it  will  be  all  right  in  a  very  short  time." 

By  his  kind  yet  not  too  patronizing  manner,  he  won 
Master  Augustus's  confidence  to  such  a  degree  that  the 
boy  took  his  hand,  and  the  two  went  slowly  together 
into  West  Broadway,  talking  as  they  walked. 

"  Do  you  like  oyster-pie,  Augustus  ?  " 

They  were  just  then  passing  a  restaurant,  and  the 
doctor  noticed  that  the  boy  looked  in  eagerly  and 
snuffed  its  savors  with  high  appreciation. 

" I  guess  I  do  I"  responded  Augustus,  enthusiasti- 
cally. 

"  Well,  I  am  glad  to  hear  that;  for  I  know  a  great 
many  boys,  and  all  the  good  boys  are  very"  fond  of 
oyster-pie." 

"  Are  they  ?  "  said  Augustus,  delightedly.  "  Mother 
says  I'm  a  very  good  boy  sometimes." 

"  Well,  then,  I'll  try  you,  and  see  if  she's  right." 

The  pair,  still  clasping  hands,  went  into  the  shop,  and 
the  doctor  ordered  as  large  a  piece  of  oyster-pie  as  a 
boy  of  seven  could  eat;  and,  when  that  amount  had  been 
ascertained  by  actual  measurement,  paid  for  it,  and  went 
out,  leading  his  protigt.  Master  Augustus's  confidence 
in  his  new  friend  rose  several  hundred  per  cent  He  be- 
gan to  be  communicative.  Speech  never  flows  freely 
when  one  is  hungry,  because  the  up-train  of  words  is 
loth  to  move,  knowing,  as  it  does,  that  the  right  of  way 


64  Little  Brother. 

on  that  single  track,  the  throat,  belongs  to  a  bread-and- 
butter  train  down. 

"  I  Avant  to  ask  you  a  question." 

"  Ask  me  as  many  as  you  please,  Augustus.  I  like  to 
show  off  what  I  know." 

"  "Well,  then,  do  you  really  kill  people  ?  " 

"  No,  indeed.  What  in  the  world  do  you  mean  by 
that  ?  " 

"  You're  a  doctor,  —  that's  what  I  mean.  I've  heard 
people  say,  a  great  many  times,  that  all  doctors  kill 
people.  There  was  Jimmy  Stilton,  —  he  was  a  good 
boy,  Kate  says,  —  and  I  heard  her  say,  too,  that  the 
doctor  killed  him  with  too  much  oil  and  such  nasty 
things.  But  I  guess  he'd  have  died  any  way,  —  he  was 
awful  good.  Now  tell  me  honest,  do  you  kill  people  ? 
I  wont  tell  anybody  !  " 

"  No,  Augustus,  —  honor  bright !  —  I  don't  kill  any- 
body at  all,  except  old  Mr.  Fever,  and  cross  old  Mrs. 
Stomach-ache  that  plagues  little  boys  so,  and  ugly  little 
Miss  Cold-in-the-Head,  and  such  naughty  people  as 
that.  I  shoot  them  with  pills,  and  smother  them  under 
plasters,  and  drown  'em  in  drops ;  but  I  don't  hurt  good 
people  at  all." 

"  Then,  by  hokey,  I'll  like  you  very  much  indeed,  old 
fellow  !  I  didn't  ask  you  if  you  killed  people  because  I 
was  afraid  of  you.  I  only  wanted  to  see  some  of  the 
people  you  killed,  and  see  how  they  looked,  and  how 
you  did  it.  I  wish  you'd  like  me." 

"So  I  will,  Augustus.    I  do  like  you  now;  and  we'll 


A  Boy  too  Little.  65 

have  many  a  nice  play  together,  I  hope,  after  I  get  you 
home  to  your  mother." 

"I've  got  a  sister,  too,  —  she's  an  awful  pretty  girl: 
don't  you  wish  you  knew  her  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed,  I'd  like  to  know  her  very  much.  You'll 
introduce  me  to  her,  wont  you  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  will.  Her  name's  Kate.  She's  got  great  big 
eyes,  —  almost  as  black  as  the  ones  you've  got,  —  and 
curls,  too,  —  Jirniny,  such  curls  !  Wont  you  tell  any- 
body if  I'll  tell  you  something  ?  " 

"No;  I'll  keep  as  still  as  a  mouse  about  it." 

"  Well,  when  I  was  a  little  boy,  —  that's  a  great  while 
ago,  before  I  was  big,  like  I  am  now,  —  she  was  very4 
nice  to  me,  and  never  called  me  bad  names,  like  monkey, 
and  mischief,  and  plague.  And  when  they  used  to  ask 
me  who  was  going  to  be  rny  wife  when  I  got  to  be  a 
man,  I  always  used  to  say  Kate  was  going  to  be  it. 
Wasn't  it  funny  ?  I  guess  it  was  !  I  didn't  know  that 
little  boys  couldn't  marry  their  sisters,  you  know.  And 
now  there's  an  awful  mean  old  Spindle-shanks  that 
comes  to  see  Kate,  and  he  thinks  I  don't  know  what  he 
is  up  to;  but  I  do.  He  wants  to  have  her  for  his  wife; 
and  I  hate  him  like  poison.  He  calls  me  sonny,  and  he 
makes  her  not  like  me ;  and  he  aint  nice  at  all,  like  you 
are.  I  wish  doctors  did  kill  somebody  sometimes  I 
Couldn't  you  kill  him,  just  once,  without  being  caught, 
BO  that  Kate  wont  marry  him  ?  " 

"  I'm  afraid  not.  Isn't  there  any  other  way  of  stop- 
ping her  ?  " 

6* 


66  Little  Brother. 

Augustus  did  not  answer  for  some  time ;  but  walked 
along,  biting  his  little  nails  in  deep  thought.  At  last  he 
brightened  up,  and  gave  the  friendly  finger  he  had  hold 
of  a  violent  joyful  twitch  which  nearly  dislocated  it. 

"  Yes,  sir-ee,  there's  one  way  of  stopping  her  without 
killing  old  Lilykid  !  Will  you  do  it  ?  Say,  old  fellow, 
will  you  do  it  ?  " 

"  What's  your  plan  ?    Let's  hear  it,  Augustus." 

"  You  go  and  marry  her  yourself !  Wont  that  be 
nice  ?  You'll  be  my  brother,  then;  and  I'll  never  plague, 
you  when  you  come  to  see  Kate,  and  you  can  have  the 
parlor  all  to  yourself!  Say  now,  wont  you?  That's  a 
nice  old  fellow  !  Say  yes.  Come  now,  say  yes,  wont 
you  ?  " 

Dr.  Morris  laughed  heartily  at  this  ingenuous  propo- 
sal, then  replied,  — 

"  But  how  do  you  know  I  aint  married  now  ?  And 
what  if  she  shouldn't  say  yes,  too  ?  Then  I'd  be  '  up  a 
tree,'  as  the  boys  say." 

"I  know  you  aint  married;  you  dont  look  married. 
You're  so  good  to  me  I  don't  believe  you've  got  any 
little  boy  of  your  own  to  be  good  to.  And  I  know  she'll 
say  yes."  Here  Augustus  lowered  his  voice  to  a  tone 
of  reverent  piety,  most  laughably  incongruous  with  his 
general  naughty-boy  bearing,  and  continued  :  "  When 
I  say  my  prayers  I'll  ask  to  have  her  say  yes,  and  then 
she's  got  to,  haint  she  ?  That'll  fetch  her  I  " 

The  doctor,  overwhelmed  by  the  strength  of  the 
child's  mountain-moving,  or  woman-moving  faith  (which 


A  Boy  too  Little.  67 

misogynists  assert  to  be  the  same  thing),  had  to  lean 
against  an  adjacent  tree-box  until  he  could  sufficiently 
recover  his  gravity. 

"  Very  well  I  you  can  try  it,"  he  replied ;  "  and  if  I 
find  out  you  aren't  making  believe  when  you  say  Kate's 
such  a  pretty,  good  girl,  —  why,  perhaps  we'll  see  what 
we  can  do  to  kill  Lilykid  in  a  decent  sort  of  a  way. 
But  here's  the  Girard  House:  let's  just  step  in  and  look 
in  the  Directory  to  see  where  your  father  lives." 

"  What's  that  big  word  ?  "  ejaculated  Augustus.  ' 

"  The  Directory.  It's  a  big  word,  and  it  means  a  big 
book  that  a  good  man  wrote  to  help  people  to  find  out 
where  little  boys  who  get  lost  ought  to  be  taken  home 
to." 

"  And  did  the  man  know  I  was  lost  ?  And  has  he 
written  all  about  it  in  the  book  ?  I  think  he's  awful 
mean  !  He  aint  a  good  man  at  all  !  I'll  bet  they've 
got  the  book  in  Sunday  school,  and  little  Tommy  Jenks, 
who  reads  all  the  big  books  he  can  get  hold  of,  will  find 
it,  and  make  fun  of  me  !  How  did  they  know  about 
me?" 

"  Oh  !  it  don't  tell  about  you;  it  only  tells  about  your 
father,  so  we  can  find  his  house  and  take  you  to  it." 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Master  Augustus,  once  more  drawing  a 
long  breath,  "  that's  all,  heh  ?  Well,  you  look  into  it, 
and  read  me  how  my  father  makes  bread." 

By  this  time  the  doctor  had  opened  the  Directory,  and 
was  turning  it  over  on  the  counter  of  the  registry- 
clerk.  He  came  to  the  Joneses,  and  began  sailing  over 


68  Little  Brother. 

that  illimitable  sea,  with  no  helm  but  the  Christian  name 
Augustus,  and  no  chart  but  the  general  idea  that  that 
Augustus  was  a  gentleman  who  devoted  his  energies  to 
baking,  and  spent  his  leisure  in  Twenty-third  street 
somewhere. 

~$.Q  such  combination  of  circumstances  could  be 
found.  There  were  Joneses  enough  to  erect  themselves 
into  a  ward,  —  Augustus  Joneses  enough  to  form  a  pri- 
mary meeting  in  that  ward, —  but  bread -making  Au- 
gustus Joneses,  who  lived  in  Twenty-third  street,  were 
nowhere  visible. 

"  You're  sure  his  name  is  Augustus  ?  "  said  the  doc- 
tor, perplexedly. 

"  Of  course  it  is  ! "  replied  the  stray  youth,  with 
marked  emphasis..  "  If  it  isn't,  what  is  it,  then  ?  " 

There  was  cogency  in  that  argument.  Doctor  Morris 
did  not  dispute  the  question  further. 

"  But  aren't  you  mistaken  about  his  making  bread  ? 
Isn't  he  a  tallow-chandler,  —  or  a  broker,  —  or  a  min- 
ister ?  " 

"  He  makes  bread,  I  say,  —  that's  what  my  papa 
does  !  He  told  me  so  this  morning  when  he  was  going 
down-town." 

"  Well,  then,  Augustus,  I  must  say  I'm  puzzled  what 
to  do  with  you,  my  boy.  Your  papa's  name  is  left  out 
of  the  big  book,  and  I  must  say  that  is  very  mean." 
The  doctor  stopped,  and  thought  for  a  moment.  "  Well, 
there's  only  one  way  left.  We'll  have  to  go  to  the  sta- 
tion-house. That's  the  place  where  boys  that  get  lost 


A  Bay  too  Little.  69 

have  to  go  when  they  can't  get  found  in  any  other  way." 
And,  with  his  young  charge,  Doctor  Morris  took  as 
straight  a  line  as  possible  for  the  nearest  rendezvous  of 
our  municipal  protectors. 

They  reached  the  station,  but  found  some  difficulty, 
for  a  moment,  in  getting  in,  as  a  crowd  of  all  the  un- 
soaped  sight-seers  in  the  neighborhood  obstructed  the 
door,  with  shoulders  and  elbows  in  various  stages  of 
tatter,  from  ragged  sleeves  to  no  sleeves  at  all.  That 
pleasant  spectacle,  an  arrest,  had  just  taken  place,  and 
its  cheap  frequency  did  not  seem  to  derogate  in  the 
least  from  the  zest  with  which  it  was  attended  by  the 
congenial  spectators.  A  policeman,  like  the  circus  ele- 
phant, kept  going  around  "  to  make  a  ring,"  with  his 
billy  for  a  trunk,  and  prevented  the  patrons  of  the  show 
from  seeing  more  than  they  bargained  for.  He  knew 
•Doctor  Morris  as  a  benevolent  habitue  of  the  lower 
slums  of  the  ward,  nodded  to  him,  and,  upon  his  whis- 
pering to  him  that  he  had  a  lost  boy  in  tow,  opened  a, 
way  for  him  among  the  throng,  and  let  him  into  the 
sanctum  of  public  protection. 

Here  the  object  of  interest  became  apparent.  A  gen- 
tleman, dressed  in  the  height  of  fashion,  evidently  for  a 
little  evening  party  slightly  different  from  the  one  -to 
which  he  here  found  himself  invited,  stood  between  two 
other  gentlemen  in  blue,  —  like  a  bridegroom  in  charge 
of  his  groomsmen,  except  that  they  appeared  rather 
more  anxious  than  usual  lest  their  principal  should  bolt 
before  the  ceremony  was  over.  His  whiskers  and  mus- 


7O  Little  Brother. 

tache  were  of  the  most  recherche  Young  England  cut; 
his  gloves  were  as  close  a  fit  as  if  by  some  triumph  of 
art  kid  hands  had  been  grafted  on  a  human  stock;  and 
his  voice  was  subdued  to  the  most  mellifluous  accents 
of  the  drawing-room,  as  he  gracefully  debated  the  ques- 
tion with  his  attentive  friends.  The  question,  I  say.  A 
fragment  of  his  little  address  will  reveal  what  it  was :  — 

"  Weally,  my  fwends,  I  haint  the  least  doubt  in  the 
wo-ah-ld  of  youah  pwopah  intentions;  but  you  labah 
undah  an  errah  of  judgment,  —  that  is  all.  It  is  a 
devilish  inconvenient  thing  for  a  gentleman,  having  an 
appointment  to  meet,  to  be  detained  in  this  way  on  such 
an  absu-yd  cha-a-ge  as  this  !  Weally  !  Obtaining  funds 
on  false  pwetences  !  Ha,  ha,  ha  I  Damned  amusing, 
'pon  honah  !  I  am  so  unfawtunate  as  to  wesemble  the 
weal  man,  I  suppose.  Dooced  funny  !  Nevah  knew  I 
wesembled  anybody;  if  I  had,  I'd  have  made  every  en- 
deavaw  to  altah  my  puysonal  appeah-ance  !  Good  joke, 
—  'pon  my  soul  it  is  !  "  • 

"  You'll  find  it's  something  else  than  a  joke  before 
to-morrow  morning  !  "  said  defender  of  our  American 
interests  No.  1,  very  grimly. 

"  I'll  be  domined  if  ye  aren't  afther  finding  it's  a  divil- 
ish  sarious  matter  !  "  corroboratorily  added  defender  of 
our  American  interests  No.  2. 

"  You  may  pe  sure  of  dat,  mit  all  yer  kid  Moves  and 
de  colt  vatch-chain  ! "  still  further  assisted  defender  of 
our  American  interests  No.  3. 

(All  of  these  defenders,  with  others  of  still  varying 


A  Boy  too  Little.  71 

• 

attainments  in  the  Anglo-Saxon  tongue,  were  selected 
for  the  office  of  policemen,  on  the  ground  of  their  .ac- 
quaintance with  the  American  interests  they  had  in 
charge.  One  of  them  could  not  speak  a  word  of  English. 
I  remember  having  seen  him  at  a  fire,  where  the  sagacity 
of  the  municipal  authority  which  selected  him  became 
particularly  evident,  in  his  being  unable  to  converse 
with  the  outsiders,  who  might  otherwise  have  hampered 
him  in  the  discharge  of  his  arduous  duty.) 

"  I  only  ask  a  few  moments'  delay,"  continued  the 
gentlemanly  prisoner,  with  his  former  graceful  com- 
posure. "  I  have  sent  for  one  of  my  fwends,  who  will 
not  hesitate  to  go  with  me  before  the  magistwate 
and  become  my  su-wety  to  any  amount  for  appeahance 
to  answah  to  this  most  widiculous  cha-a-ge;  and  I  shall 
then  be  able  to  keep  my  imp-aw-tant  appointment ! " 

"  What's  the  nature  of  the  prisoner's  accusation  ?  "  said 
the  doctor,  in  an  undertone,  to  the  Hibernian  defender 
of  American  interests. 

"  Shure  and  he's  an  embezzling  rascal,  that's  what 
he  is,"  answered  the  defender;  "and  he's  arristed  for 
swindling  a  poor  divil  of  a  bootmaker  out  of  a  hundred 
and  fifty  dollars.  He's  got  about  tin  or  a  dozen  names, 
—  now  he's  '  Lord  Divil-knows-who,'  with  a  large  prop- 
erty in  Ireland,  —  bad  look  to  the  black  mouth  that  says 
he  ivir  saw  the  light  o'  that  blissed  island  !  —  now  he's 
'  Mr.  Pennyroyal  Pike,'  a  rich  Amirican  from  the  South, 
and  then  agin  he's  'English  Jimmy  the  Gintleman;' 
but  Hivin  knows  one  name  is  plinty  good  enough  for 


72  Little  Brother. 

• 
the   likes   o'  him,  an'  that's  Andrew  Redding,  an'  bad 

enough  it  is,  too,  the  skoonk  !  " 

All  this  time  Augustus,  hid  behind  half  a  dozen  blue 
coats,  the  opacity  of  whose  tails  caused  him  the  most 
lively  indignation,  was  tugging  to  get  a  look  at  the 
object  of  interest,  but  with  signal  unsuccess.  Unable  to 
contain  himself  any  longer,  he  pulled  the  doctor's  finger 
savagely,  and  exclaimed,  — 

"  Lift  me  up,  wont  you  ?  Don't  you  think  a  fellow 
wants  to  get  a  squint  at  him,  too,  hey  ?  " 

Doctor  Morris  good-humoredly  obeyed,  and  elevated 
the  enfant  terrible  by  the  waistband  to  a  position  highly 
eligible  for  the  squint  desired. 

"  Jiminy  !  "  exclaimed  the  youth,  —  all  symptoms  of 
ten  o'clock  and  sleep  leaving  his  eyelids,  —  "  if  that  isn't 
the  nasty  old  thing  himself !  It's  Spindle-shanks  — 
that's  what  it  is.  How  de  do,  Mr.  Lilykid  ?  " 

The  gentlemanly  prisoner  turned  round  with  a  start, 
but,  quick  as  thought,  the  doctor  dropped  the  bad  boy 
to  his  native  level;  and  Mr.  Lilykid  failed  to  discover 
that  member  of  the  detective  service  who  had  played 
this  ventriloquist  trick  on  him. 

"  Hush  ! "  said  the  doctor,  whispering  sternly  into 
Master  Augustus's  ear.  "  If  you  don't  keep  still  I 
wont  marry  Kate  !  Is  that  the  Lilykid  you  were  talk- 
ing about  ?  Speak  softly  !  " 

"Yes,  it  is,"  said  Augustus,  half-offended  and  half- 
awed  by  the  peremptory  manner  of  his  friend. 

u  Then  don't  you  open  your  mouth  to  anybody  about 


A  Boy  too  Little.  73 

it  till  I  tell  you,  or  he  will  run  away,  and  we  can't  kill 
him,  don't  you  see  ?  Will  you  promise  me  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  you  wont  let  him  get  my  sister." 

"  "Well,  keep  your  promise,  and  he  shan't  have  her. 
Good  boys,  who  like  oyster-pie,  always  keep  their  word ; 
and  I  know  you  will." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  answered  the  little  brother,  in  a  low  whis- 
per, feeling  confidence  restored. 

Just  at  this  juncture  Mr.  Lilykid's  friend,  very  much 
like  him  in  personal  appearance,  and  answering  to  the 
name  of  Buckingham,  appeared,  signified  his  readiness 
to  go  bail,  and  went  away  with  Miss  Jones's  admirer 
and  the  groomsmen  in  blue,  to  visit  the  magistrate. 

A  quarter  of  an  hour  afterward  the  frantic  family  in 
Twenty-third  street  received  the  following  despatch :  — 

"  To  Augustus  Jones,  Esq.,  — 

"  A  hoy  has  been  found,  and  is  now  at  this  station,  answering 
description  of  this  r.  si.'s  telegraph  from  you.  Says  his  name 
is  Augustus  Jones  ;  but  as  lie  firmly  asserts,  with  apparently 
perfect  intelligence,  that  his  father  is  a  baker,  we  do  not  wish  to 
hold  out  any  strong  hopes  of  his  identity.  Come  down  directly. 
"BuLROCK,  Telegraph  Operator." 

Within  thirty  minutes  longer,  as  may  well  be  sup- 
posed, Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones  and  Kate  were  at  the  door 
of  the  station-house  where  their  terrible  suspense  was 
to  be  removed,  or  left  to  grow  worse,  to  linger  forever. 
So  strongly  did  they  realize  this  fact,  that  they  faltered 
on  UH-,  threshold,  hesitating  to  go  in. 
'  7 


74  Little  Brother. 

"  The  boy  is  asleep  now,"  said  one  of  the  policemen ; 
"  he  seemed  so  fagged  out  that  we  laid  him  on  a  cot, 
and  he  was  off  in  no  time." 

He  led  the  way,  as  he  spoke,  into  a  room  furnished 
with  comfortable  but  plain  cot-beds,  —  where  all  the 
sleeping  took  place  that  was  ever  performed  in  that 
centre  of  public  yigilance,  —  and  turned  on  the  gas  more 
brightly  to  let  them  see  the  stray.  Like  a  little  cat, 
with  his  legs  curled  up  against  his  stomach,  and  his 
head  on  his  soft  paws,  lay  the  child  sleeping.  Yes,  his 
hair  was  the  true  curly  corn-silk  !  Turn  the  gas  up 
a  little  higher  I  All  the  three  rush  around  to  the  side 
of  the  bed  and  turn  down  the  corner  of  the  quilt  from 
his  face.  It  is  he  I  It's  that  darling,  darling,  naughty 
little  brother  ! 

Had  Augustus  died  from  the  effect  of  that  rapturous 
meeting,  the  policeman  would  have  been  able  to  testify 
on  the  inquest  that  it  was  murder,  for  the  boy's  little 
ribs  cracked  audibly.  He  was  smothered  in  the  Kaglan, 
like  a  performance  of  "  the  Babes  in  the  Tower,"  with 
one  babe  scant;  his  nose  was  flattened  against  the  bones 
of  Miss  Kate's  corsage;  last  of  all  his  mother  got  him, 
not  to  let  him  go.  He  was  hugged,  he  was  deluged 
with  kisses  and  tears,  he  was  called  several  dozen  epi- 
thets which  the  wildest  system  of  moral  philosophy 
would  have  failed  to  make  consistent:  an  angel,  and  a 
little  monkey ;  a  darling,  a  naughty  wretch,  a  beauty,  a 
dear  little  dirty  pig;  a  wicked,  wicked  boy  to  break 
their  heart  so;  a  cherub,  and  a  rascal.  All  of  which 


A  Boy  too  Little.  75 

blandishments  were  equally  ravishing  to  Master  Augus- 
tus, —  aroused  as  he  was  out  of  a  sleep  of  utter  exhaus- 
tion, —  only  enough  awake  to  feel  a  general  sentiment 
of  vindictiveness  toward  the  human  race,  and  won- 
dering, like  Mr.  Pickwick  on  the  occasion  of  his  cel- 
ebrated one-horse  act,  whether  it  was  not  all  "  a  horrid 
dream."  When  he  came  to  sufficiently  realize  his  posi- 
tion, his  first  remark  was  directed  to  the  large  Raglan 
and  Whiskers,  who  stood  alternately  laughing  and  cry- 
ing at  the  foot  of  the  bed. 
"  How  do  you  make  bread,  anyhow  ?  Say  1 " 
But  as  the  reality  of  things  still  further  broke  upon 
him, —  as  he  remembered  all  the  mortification  and  the 
pain  of  his  weary  day's  wandering,  and  felt  what  a 
heavenly  thing  it  was  for  a  poor  little  lost  boy  to  have  a 
mother's  and  father's  and  sister's  loving  hearts  to  come 
to  when  the  dread  and  the  danger  were  at  their  highest, — 
he  softened  like  a  little  tough  snow-ball  in  April  thaws. 
He  wept  on  one  bosom,  and  laughed  on  another;  he 
hugged  them  all  passionately  as  far  as  his  small  arms 
could  reach  around;  he  asked  forgiveness  in  choked, 
inarticulate  sobbings,  and  made  innumerable  prom- 
ises, which,  if  kept,  would  have  put  him  in  the  category 
of  those  boys  who  want,  at  least,  to  be  an  angel  and 
with  the  angels  stand. 

Everything  having  become  ordinarily  placid  once 
more,  Augustus  looked  all  around  him  anxiously,  and 
not  seeming  to  find  what  he  wanted,  called  out  in  a  loud 
tone,  — 


76  Little  Brother. 

"  Doctor  !  Doctor  !  Where  are  you,  you  good  old 
fellow  ?  " 

The  gentleman  sought,  with  a  proper  delicacy,  had 
taken  himself  out  of  the  way  when  the  carriage  arrived, 
and  was  now  talking  with  some  interesting  specimen  of 
character  he  had  found  among  the  policemen  in  the 
outer  room.  He  never  liked  to  be  idle;  and  he  knew 
that  blue  uniforms  do  not  cover  uniform  natures, — 
human  nature  being  the  same,  that  is  to  say,  the  same 
in  no  two  cases,  wherever  you  find  it.  Hearing  Augus- 
tus's voice,  he  joined  the  party  in  the  cot-room. 

"  Here  he  is !  "  exclaimed  Augustus,  triumphantly. 
"  That's  the  man  that  knows  what  a  good  boy  I  am,  and 
gave  me  a  big  piece  of  oyster-pie  !  Come  here,  old  fel- 
low !  You  found  me,  didn't  you  ?  That's  my  mother, 
and  that's  my  father,  and  that's  Kate !  Isn't  she  an 
awful  pretty  girl,  — just  as  I  said  she  was  ?  " 

"  O  Augustus  ! "  exclaimed  the  young  lady,  blush- 
ing and  holding  up  her  finger. 

"This  is  a  proud  and  grateful  moment  of  my  life. 
I'm  honored  by  seeing  you,  sir  !  "  said  the  Eaglan,  with 
the  warm  heart  inside  of  it,  shaking  the  doctor's  hand 
warmly  inside  the  privacy  of  a  giant  sleeve. 

The  mother  clasped  the  other  hand,  and  looked  the 
eloquent  thanks  that  mothers  know,  but  on  such  occa- 
sions can  seldom  speak. 

"  I  might  have  had  a  less  eccentric  introduction,  but 
certainly  not  a  more  favorable  one,"  said  the  doctor,  re- 
turning all  his  salutations  with  a  frank  smile.  "  You, 


A  Boy  too  Little.  77 

who  are  so  happy,  can  feel  how  happy  I  must  be  in  the 
accident  which  connects  me  with  this  little  fellow's  re- 
covery. Indeed,  I  wish  all  my  patients  were  recovered 
as  quickly."  t 

The  doctor's  manner  was  very  manly,  self-possessed, 
and  polished ;  his  smile  showed  a  beautiful  set  of  white, 
regular  teeth,  and  the  impression  he  made  upon  Miss 
Jones  was  altogether  favorable.  She  looked  at  him  with 
considerable  interest  while  he  spoke;  and  the  quick  eye 
of  Master  Jones  did  not  let  this  fact  go  by  unobserved. 

"  Look-a-here,  old  fellow,  I  want  to  whisper  to  you  ! " 

"  No  whispering  in  company  you  know,  Augustus." 

"  But  I  must,  just  this  once  I " 

"Well,"  said  his  mamma,  considerately,  "just  this 
once,  then.  I  guess  we  must  excuse  him,  doctor." 
The  doctor  bent  his  ear,  and  Augustus  uttered 
eagerly :  — 

"You  can  do  it;  she's  a-going  to  like  you;  mayn't  I 
just  pitch  into  her  about  old  Spindle-shanks  just  one 
little  wee  time  ?  " 

"No,  my  dear  boy;  if  you  do,  you  wont  be  keeping 
your  word,  you  know.  And  good  boys  always  do  that. 
Wait  till  I  tell  you  you  may,  and  then  you  can.  I'll  tell 
you  why  sometime,  —  and  till  then  be  a  li ttle  man ;  stand 
by  your  promise.  You  will,  wont  you  ?  " 

"Yes,"  said  Master  Augustus,  with  a  deep  sigh, — 
feeling  that  one  of  the  principal  gratifications  of  life  was 
inscrutably  denied  him. 

"  We  shall  hope  to  see  you  at  our  house  whenever  you 
7* 


78  Little  Brother. 

can  run  away  from  your  professional  duties,"  uttered 
the  Kaglan,  ardently. 

"  You  will  always  be  most  welcome,"  said  the  mother. 

And  the  daughter  smiled  a  bewitching  invitation, 
which  was  full  as  cordial  as  if  it  had  not  been  silent. 

The  restored  little  brother  was  then  lifted  into  the 
carriage,  —  enthusiastic  thanks  and  good-bys  repeated 
to  all  who  had  been  engaged  in  the  good  office  of  finding 
the  lost  sheep,  —  and  the  wheels  rattled  away. 

Between  the  station-house  and  Twenty-third  street 
Master  Augustus  had  his  inquisitiveness  on  the  subject 
of  the  parental  bread-making  relieved;  but,  to  his  bitter 
disappointment,  only  by  finding  —  as  is  the  case  with  so 
many,  alas  !  of  our  earlier  roseate  visions  —  that  it  was 
not  literal,  but  figurative. 


Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  79 


III. 

JUST  ENOUGH  OF  A  BOY. 

GOING  into  the  country  for  the  summer  !  There  is 
crash  upon  the  wide  surface  of  the  parlor-floors;  but  it 
thinks  of  the  kisses  it  had  last  winter  from  glancing  kid 
and  satin  toes  amidst  the  delirium  of  Redowas  and  the 
spheral  sweep  of  the  German,  and  sighs  knowing  that 
for  the  sweltering  months  to  come  it  must  do  Lenten 
penance  for  its  carnival,  —  abandoned  to  dust,  and 
silence,  and  darkness.  The  gay  fauteuils,  the  ottomans, 
the  sofas,  in  monastic  shirts  of  rough  Holland,  are  ready 
for  their  summer  repentance  likewise.  Till  the  house- 
cleaner,  and  the  upholsterer,  and  the  footman,  forerun- 
ning the  family  in  October,  shall  come  again  to  shrive 
them  and  unbind  their  sackcloth,  they  must  sit  in  the 
gloom  and  mourn  for  the  flirtations  they  have  aided  and 
abetted,  in  corners  and  behind  brocatelle  curtains.  The 
piano  is  a  sarcophagus :  Sphor  and  Thalberg,  Chopin 
and  Schubert,  the  whole  grand  army  of  Mozart,  Bellini, 
and  their  operatic  brethren,  lie  silent  beneath  that 
coffin-lid  of  mirror-bright  rose- wood,  side -by  side  with 
Glover,  Foster,  and  George  Christy.  They  do  not  crowd 
each  other;  but  if  they  did,  they  could  not  speak  to  com- 


So  Little  Brother. 

plain  of  it,  for  they  are  ghosts  that  cannot  answer  till 
they  are  spoken  to,  and  the  cunning  fingers  that  once 
broke  their  spell  are  in  a  pair  of  pretty  little  Lisle-thread 
travelling  gloves  toying  with  a  parasol.  Miss  Kate  is  all 
ready  to  go,  and  in  time,  too :  a  fact  wThich  the  satirical 
assert  to  be  of  such  rare  occurrence  in  a  lady's  lifetime, 
that,  whenever  it  does  happen,  a  monument  should  be 
raised  to  commemorate  it.  Such  a  monument  is  raised 
in  the  present  instance,  just  inside  the  hall-door.  Its 
pedestal  is  a  Saratoga  trunk  of  a  size  which  could  not 
have  existed  at  the  time  of  Noah,  or  other  families  than 
that  gentleman's  would  have  survived  the  deluge;  its 
shaft  gradually  rises  in  successive  courses  of  smaller 
baggage,  and  its  capital  is  a  hat-box,  marked  "  Miss 
Kate  Jones."  It  is  not  quite  as  high  as  Worth's  monu- 
ment, biit  full  as  handsome,  and  a  great  deal  more  truth- 
ful, as  Miss  Jones  has  been  at  Twenty-third  street, 
which  is  inscribed  in  several  places  on  her  column,  while 
Mr.  "Worth,  I  understand,  was  not  at  a  few  of  the  war- 
localities  engraved  on  his. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones  are  lovingly  talking  over  their 
plans  for  the  summer,  as  they  promenade  the  hall  with 
their  arms  around  each  other's  waists:  the  wife  so  glad 
that  the  husband  is  able  at  last  to  get  out  of  town  with 
her;  the  husband  so  proud  and  pleased  to  think  he  has 
a  wife  who  does  not  look  upon  him  merely  as  a  money- 
machine  kept  going  in  Wall  street  to  manufacture  the 
basis  of  her  independent  summer- pleasures,  —  who  waits 
for  him  rather  than  go  anywhere  without  him. 


Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  81 

Master  Augustus  was  wound  up  last  night  like  an 
alarm-clock,  by  the  information  that  they  would  all  start 
to-morrow.  It  was,  however,  impossible  to  set  his 
striking-hand  at  any  particular  hour;  consequently  he 
has  been  going  off  all  day.  He  was  wide  awake  at 
three  o'clock  this  morning,  insisted  upon  being  dressed 
at  four,  took  his  cap  in  his  hand  as  soon  as  he  got  down 
stairs,  ate  breakfast  with  his  gloves  on,  spent  the  in- 
terim between  that  and  lunch  in  standing  on  the  steps 
to  see  whether  the  carriage  was  coming,  and  passed  the 
remaining  time  until  it  actually  did  come,  in  requesting 
exact  information,  to  the  very  minute,  of  the  time  of 
day,  at  intervals  of  a  quarter  of  an  hour.  It  is  histori- 
cal that,  for  the  last  three  hours  of  suspense,  he  did  not 
once  sit  down;  but  when  he  received  his  little  boots, 
after  they  had  been  blacked  for  the  journey  the  third 
time  that  day,  he  put  them  on  by  a  Blondin  feat  of  bal- 
ancing, standing  on  one  foot,  and  altogether  did  enough 
running  up  and  down  stairs,  in  his  anxiety  to  get  on,  to 
have  carried  him  to  the  Highlands  of  ISTavesink  (the 
family's  destination),  had  that  point  been  attainable  to  a 
pedestrian. 

"While  the  family  were  awaiting  the  carriage  the  door- 
bell rang.  Augustus  happened  to  be  making  a  broad 
jelly  of  his  little  nose  at  tha.t  moment  against  the  hall 
window-pane,  and  thus  being  convenient  to  the  door- 
knob, turned  it  without  waiting  for  Johnson.  To  his 
great  delight  Dr.  Morris  greeted  his  eyes. 

"Come  in,  doctor  !  come  right  in  !"  cried  Augustus; 


82  Little  Brother, 

"  we're  all  a-going  away,  and  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you  I 
don't  know  what  to  do  !.  Are  you  going  away,  too  ?  " 

"  No,  Augustus.  This  is  the  first  day  I've  had  any 
time  to  come  and  see  you,  and  now  you're  going  to  run 
away  and  leave  me.  Ah  !  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Jones,  how  do 
do  ?  Miss  Jones,  I  hope  you  are  well.  I'm  sorry  to  be 
so  malapropos,  yet  not  exactly  either,  for  otherwise  I 
should  have  missed  you  entirely." 

"  Sit  right  down,  and  excuse  the  plight  we're  in  !  "  ex- 
claimed the  broker,  shaking  the  young  man's  hand 
warmly  inside  of  the  gigantic  dust-coat  sleeve  that  now 
replaced  the  Eaglan.  "  Yes,  do  !  don't  think  you're  de- 
taining us ;  the  carriage  wont  be  here  for  half  an  hour 
yet; "  and  Mr.  Jones  handed  him  one  of  the  penitential 
chairs. 

With  Augustus  on  his  knee,  Dr.  Morris  sat  convers- 
ing with  all  the  family  until  the  carriage  came.  Then, 
with  most  cordial  invitation  to  visit  them  at  the  High- 
lands during  the  summer,  and  be  their  most  frequent 
guest  on  their  return  home,  they  gave  him  those  pleas- 
ant, earnest  shakes  of  the  hand  which  leave  a  grateful 
memory  on  the  touch,  corresponding  to  that  of  fresh 
clover  on  the  sense  of  odor;  and  the  hearty  souls,  carry- 
ing innumerable  little  morocco  bags,  black  wicker  bas- 
kets, satchels,  umbrellas,  parasols,  shawls,  books,  dusters, 
together  with  four  Harper's  Magazines  for  the  current 
month,  that  no  one  might  be  tantalized  by  witnessing 
the  perusal  of  such  an  interesting  periodical  when  he  or 
she  had  it  not,  entered  the  carriage,  and  the  door  was 


83 

shut.  But  just  before  the  driver  tightened  his  reins, 
Augustus,  as  if  by  a  sudden  premonition,  exclaimed,  — 

"  Doctor  !  wont  you  tell  a  fellow  where  you  live  ? 
Mamma's  going  to  teach  me  to  write,  and  my  very  first 
letter  will  be  to  you  I " 

Doctor  Morris  took  a  card  from  his  pocket-book,  and 
handed  it  to  the  little  brother  through  the  window.  It 
bore  his  name  and  address :  — 


M'GREGOR   MORRIS,' M.D., 

|)|)gsuhut  anb  jsurgcott. 

NEW    YORK    HOSPITAL,     10    P.M.  — 7    A.M. 
OFFICE  AT  OTHER  HOURS,  No.  -,  CLINTON  PLACE. 


It  was  no  doubt  a  premonition  which  induced  Augus- 
tus to  obtain  this,  —  a  very  remarkable  and  providential 
one  also,  as  afterward  appears  in  the  course  of  this  nar- 
rative. He  put  it  into  the  pocket  of  his  little  summer- 
cloth  jacket ;  the  doctor  hailed  a  stage  going  down,  and 
the  carriage,  with  its  joyful  Joneses,  set  off  at  cheerful 
speed  for  the  foot  of  Robinson  street. 

It  reached  the  slip  about  twenty  minutes  before  the 
good  little  steamer  Highland  Light  was  to  start,  Mr. 
Jones  took  his  wife  and  children  to  the  promenade  deck  ; 
found  stools  for  them,  and  left  them  near  the  pilot-house, 
while  he  returned  to  the  wharf  to  attend  to  the  little 
matter  of  baggage  that  had  come  down  in  a  cart  behind 
the  carriage.  By  the  time  that  it  was  all  on  board  the 


84  Little  Brother. 

second  bell  began  to  ring,  and  Mr.  Jones  ascended  once 
more  to  rest  from  his  labors  in  the  family  bosom.  At 
least  so  he  congratulated  himself,  for  he  had  cast  his 
eye  upon  one  particular  stool  when  he  went  down,  and 
hoped  that  it  would  not  be  taken  before  he  got  back. 

He  was  disappointed.  His  sweet  Kate  was  already 
in  the  meshes  of  an  apparently  most  charming  conversa- 
tion, the  amiable  ensnarer  being  none  else  than  Mr. 
Lilykid.  Close  by  them  his  wife  sat  where  he  had  left 
her,  fully  occupied  with  diverting  the  vindictive  atten- 
tion of  Master  Augustus  from  the  mutually  agreeable 
pair.  With  the  maternal  assistance  that  youth  was 
vigorously  combating  the  fiery  temptation  to  "  out  with 
it,  and  call  him  Spindle-shanks  to  his  face." 

"  Mr.  Lilykid,  father,"  said  Kate,  looking  at  the  gen- 
tleman's hands  as  if  she  expected  them  to  shake  one  an- 
other. This  did  not  happen,  however,  the  father  feeling 
a  share,  slightly  modified,  of  the  son's  sentiment,  at  the 
intrusion  upon  his  family  party.  He  bowed  gravely, 
Mr.  Lilykid  gracefully,  and  Kate  continued:  "  Mr.  Lily- 
kid  has  given  us  quite  a  pleasant  surprise;  he  has  taken 
looms  at  the  same  house  with  us  for  the  next  month, 
and  will  be  there  till  he  accompanies  us  to  Saratoga." 
Such  an  ominous  scowl  overspread  the  face  of  Master 
Jones,  at  hearing  of  this  delightful  prospect,  that  his 
mother  feared  he  was  going  to  say  something,  proposed 
a  promenade  to  her  husband,  and,  in  company  with  him 
and  Augustus,  left  the  two  to  their  tete-a-tete. 

In  two  hours,  as  is  usual,  the  little  steamer  had 


Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  85 

squeezed  up  the  narrow  channel  of  that  estuary  inside 
the  Hook,  known  as  Shrewsbury  River,  as  far  as  the 
landing  from  which  the  craft  takes  its  name,  — the  High- 
land Lights.  This  beautiful  place  is  one  of  Nature's 
composition  pieces.  She  has  taken  Butter  Hill  from  the 
Hudson  just  below  "Willis's,  with  all  its  measureless 
depth  of  great,  free,  wild  wood  clinging  to  it  from  foot 
to  sky,  and  set  it  on  the  resounding  sea-border;  from 
the  neighborhood  of  Philadelphia  she  copies  one  of  the 
most  charming  bits  of  her  own  fairy  Schuylkill  and 
winds  it  around  the  mountain's  base;  with  her  whitest 
pencil  she  draws  the  long  glistening  stretch  of  narrow 
beach  with  a  single  stroke  from  Sandy  Hook  to  Deal, 
and  sets  that  as  the  other  boundary  to  the  stream;  and 
then  her  grandest  inspiration  wells  up  upon  her  from 
the  Atlantic  caves,  and  the  tameless  sea,  hiding  its  fur- 
ther fury  under  the  very  eaves  of  the  eastern  heaven, 
surges  into  the  picture  to  tell  her  that  her  completest 
work  upon  our  American  coast  is  done  !  On  the  moun- 
tain we  may  stroll  all  day  and  ever  find  new  endless- 
ness of  fragrant  shade,  or  seat  ourselves  at  night  be- 
neath the  twin  light-houses  on  the  ridge,  watching  the 
misty-golden  rays  of  the  revolving  lantern,  creep  with 
slow  rhythm,  like  the  shining  antennae  of  some  vast 
lightning  fly,  upon  the  dark  bosom  of  the  league-broad 
sweep  of  sea;  in  the  river  the  timid  stranger  may  lave 
himself  as  in  some  shallow  inland  pool  at  home,  —  on  it 
he  may  row  or  sail;  while  the  brave,  and  the  brave 
fair  whom  they  deserve,  find  a  tumbling  surf  to  meet 
8 


86        .  Little  Brother. 

and  conquer  in  laughing  wrestle,  just  across  that  shin- 
ing sand-strip  on  whose  hither  edge  all  is  so  calm.  This 
is  the  Highlands  of  ]N"avesink.  Yet  there  are  a  few 
people  —  a  few  thousand  only — who  sterna  past  it 
serenely,  for  the  most  part,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  with  their 
eyes  shut,  and  go  to  that  barren  waste  —  shared  with 
them  only  by  the  fisher-hawk  nesting  in  grim  dead 
trees  whose  struggle  with  desolation  lasts  till  they 
reach  forty  feet  at  the  utmost  —  that  grassless  strip  of 
powdered  glass  known  as  Long  Branch;  and  there, 
where  there  is  no  boating,  nor  sailing,  nor  fishing,  nor 
wandering  in  woods,  but  only  surf  for  the  bravest, 
rides  in  sand  hub-deep  for  the  most  eccentric,  billiards, 
ten-pins,  perpendicular  imbibition,  a  mad  repetition  of 
last  winter's,  fevered  Pyrrhics,  and  a  sleeping  in  hot 
closets  for  the  most  fathomless  of  pocket,  these  few 
thousands  actually  pass  more  or  less  of  the  summer. 

But  the  Joneses  —  and  Mr.  Lily  kid,  because  of  the 
Joneses  —  got  off  at  the  Highland  Lights.  In  the 
arms  of  the  indefatigable  Mrs.  Jarvis,  that  dauntless 
woman  who,  like  a  landlady  variety  of  the  Phoenix,  still 
arises*  and  keeps  boarders  above  the  ashes  of  her  Sea- 
View  House,  we  leave  the  Joneses  for  the  present.  Mr. 
Lilykid,  with  carpet-bag  and  umbrella,  strolls  up  the 
steps  with  them. 

The  climate  is  heavenly  at  this  place,  —  the  diver- 
sions innumerable.  Without  the  slightest  misgiving, 
therefore,  we  leave  the  party  to  entertain  themselves,  and 
pass  over  the  space  of  three  weeks.  At  the  end  of  that 


Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  87 

time  the  postman  of  Clinton  Place  left  a  letter  at  Dr. 
Morris's  office,  which  that  gentleman  opened  and  found 
to  read  as  follows:  — 

"  Joon  thee  20  Furst,  shrooseberry  litowses. 
"  dere  doktur  —  Thare  is  Krabbs  hear.  Tha  goe  side  1st. 
Wen  itt  is  lo  tyed  and  runing  fast  itt  is  esy  cawtt.  We  ete  them  & 
boyl  them  til  tha  ar  read,  tha  ar  cawt  inn  a  nett,  which  is  a 
grate  menny  holes  maid  ov  twain  an  wove  intow  a  bagg,  toe  lett 
out  thee  waiter,  kum  up  hear  rite  of.  spindel  Shancz  is  aboot 
To  Runn  a  wa  with  kait  Thee  da  after  Tomoro,  u  sed  ude  Stopp 
Him.  now  Dew  it  ore  ile  brake  Mi  Wird.  Thee  Bote  Sales  from 
robison  strete.  this  is  thee  wa  tow  git  thair  —  al  thee  Stag  Lions 
thatt  runn  doun  brodwa  goes  as  fur  ass  mury  strete.  Taik  enny 
1  ov  them  an  git  owt  att  mury.  then  goe  strate  doun  tow  Thee 
Doc.  if  u  dont  i  shall  lern  how  two  Sware  fromm  1  ov  thee 
nawty  Men  which  opins  Oistors  hear  fur  thee  hotell  and  dew  it 
vcrry  much.  Johnson  is  riting  fur  me  Becaws  i  amm  sich  a  Pigg 
with  mi  Fenn  that  evn  Iff  I  shud  Beginn  nise  &  clene  ide  Sune 
git  Inc  on  my  Close  Becides  i  dont  no  how  tow  rite  enny  wa  &  i 
Hop  ule  xquze  me,  doktur  moris  fur  Takin  Thee  Libburtey  ou 
Bein  A  Sii  vant  &  ritin  tow  u  fur  master  agustis  Without  noe 
Interdukshun,  which  evn  Speckin  Wudeut  Bee  aloud  inn  thee 
Old  Kuntry,  which  things  is  diferint  Inn  thee  noo,  ware  al  Men 
is  Fre  &  Equill  an  noe  kweshuns  Ascd  —  which  Sirkumstanses 
Halter  kases  &  soe  noe  mour  noose  fromm  ures  affekshinilley 
willam  Johnson  i  mene  toe  sa  Mastir  Agustis.  pee  ess.  iff  u 
kum  i  wtint  Lern  toe  Sware  ass  a  Matir  ov  Curse." 

Having  finished  the  perusal  of  this  remarkable  epistle, 
the  doctor  wrote  a  note  to  a  brother  physician,  asking 


88  Little  Brother. 

him  to  take  care  of  the  few  serious  cases,  of  which  he 
inclosed  him  a  list,  marked  on  the  slate  which  hung  at 
his  door,  "Called  abroad  on  consultation:  back  in  a 
week,"  —  and  performed  his  bachelor  packing  by  the 
usual  method  of  cramming  a  dozen  shirts  into  a  valise 
constructed  for  five,  completing  the  process  by  sitting 
down  on  it  till  it  would  lock.  This  was  two  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  of  the  day  before  the  elopement  was  ap- 
pointed. At  six  o'clock  he  was  on  the  wharf  of  the 
scene  of  action.  There  are  two  places  in  the  United 
States  where  the  arrival  of  a  steamboat  is  still  as 
thrilling  a  fact  to  the  pulse  of  popular  life  as  when 
Fulton  ran  the  first  trip  on  his  Chancellor  Livingston. 
One  of  these  is  Newburgh,  on  the  Hudson,  where 
the  whole  town,  from  its  corporation-officers  down  to 
the  small  boy  with  molasses  candy  for  sale,  and  the 
still  smaller  boy  that  spends  his  cent  with  him,  is 
poured  upon  the  long  wharf  in  one  compact,  surging 
mass  of  human  cocoa-nuts  at  every  arrival  of  the 
Thomas  Powel.  The  other  is  Highland  Lights.  Here, 
everybody  is  always  expecting  somebody,  or  in  spasms 
of  anxiety  to  buy  a  New  York  four-cent  daily  for  ten 
cents. 

But  while  the  doctor  is  elbowing  his  way  through  the 
crowd,  climbing  over  trunks  and  getting  involved  in  the 
legs  of  the  black  porters  who  carry  them,  a  little  hand 
pulls  him  by  the  finger,  a  little  face,  the  very  one  he  is 
looking  for,  peers  up  into  his,  and  Master  Augustus  ex- 
claims, with  frantic  pleasure,  — 


Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  89 

"  You  dear,  dear  old  fellow  I  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you, 
I  don't  know  what  to  do  !  " 

As  they  emerged  more  from  the  crowd,  it  became  ap- 
parent how  much  interest  the  child  had  really  taken  in 
the  arrival.  He  had  been  engaged  in  his  favorite  pur- 
suit when  he  saw  the  boat  coming  up  the  river;  and 
just  as  he  was,  without  a  moment's  compromise  with 
the  social  amenities,  had  run  to  meet  it.  A  covered 
basket,  evidently,  from  confused  bubblings  and  scratch- 
ings  heard  within,  full  of  the  spoils  of  crabdom,  hung 
at  his  waist  suspended  by  a  strap;  his  pantaloons,  rolled 
as  far  as  possible,  displayed  a  pair  of  fiery-red,  sun- 
burned little  snipe  legs;  and  he  directed  his  own  and 
the  doctor's  steps  to  the  spot  where  he  had  thrown  his 
net  down  for  greater  ease  in  running.  This  being  se- 
cured, Augustus  exclaimed  that  he  was  ready  to  go  to 
the  house,  and  proposed  the  following  programme : 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  we'll  walk  right  into  the  parlor, 
and  I  guess  Kate  and  that  old  Lilykid  are  alone  together. 
I'll  go  straight  up  to  him  and  say, '  Old  Spindle-shanks, 
you  sha'n't  have  my  sister  ! '  and  then  you  come  close 
up  behind  me  and  say,  '  No  I  that  you  sha'n't,  you 
wicked  man  ! '  And  then  we'll  call  him  all  the  names 
we  can  think  of,  and  tell  him  just  what  he  is,  and  if  he 
tries  to  run  away,  you  can  knock  him  down;  and  if 
Kate  faints,  why,  you  can  bring  her  to,  can't  you  ?  " 

"  Not  quite  so  fast,  my  dear  boy  !  everything  in  time. 
I  want  to  look  around  a  little  this  evening,  and  "  — 

"  Look  around  !  Thunder  !  Why,  old  Lilykid's  going 
8* 


90  Little  Brother. 

to  try  and  run  away  with  my  sister  to-morrow  !  I  heard 
him  telling  her  that  they'd  take  a  sail  up  to  Red  Bank 
and  do  it,  and  then  come  back  and  ask  mamma  to  ask 
papa  to  feel  all  right  about  it;  and  she  didn't  say  she 
wouldn't !  They  were  down  in  the  grape-arbor,  and 
they  didn't  know  I  was  up  on  the  top  of  the  steps  and 
heard  it  all;  but  I  did  !  What  do  you  want  to  look 
around  for  ?  Don't  you  believe  me  ?  There  aint  any 
time  to  look  around;  mamma  puts  me  to  bed  at  eight 
o'clock,  and  he'll  have  Kate  to-morrow  !  " 

"  No  he  wont,  Augustus,  my  boy  !  I've  been  getting 
all  ready  for  him.  Before  your  letter  came  I  had  gone 
to  the  station,  where  your  mamma  found  you,  and  heard 
enough  said  and  got  enough  papers  —  they're  here,  in 
my  breast-pocket  —  to  stop  all  that  very  suddenly  !  Be 
patient,  now;  don't  say  a  word  to  anybody,  not  even  of 
my  being  here,  till  I  say  you  may;  and  we'll  attend  to 
the  matter  just  as  it  ought  to  be  done.  You  shall  be 
with  me,  too,  when  it  happens;  only  don't  spoil  every- 
thing by  being  in  too  much  of  a  hurry." 

Thus  he  pacified  Augustus,  and  persuaded  him  to  go 
up  quietly  to  tea,  while  he  took  his  valise  to  the  Pavilion 
next  door,  and,  as  he  had  said,  looked  around  during  the 
evening. 

At  eight  o'clock  the  broad  full  moon  rose  out  of  the 
far  border  of  the  sea,  and  began  to  compete  with  the 
rear-guard  of  the  sunset  in  making  that  whole  American 
coast  heaven  as  gloriously  beautiful  as  any  sky  of  Italy. 
In  that  mixed  light  the  rushing,  booming  surf  on  the  outer 


Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  91 

edge  of  the  sand  looked  like  the  breaking  upward  into 
a  freer  air  of  some  great  genii-troubled  mine  of  molten 
gold  and  silver.  On  their  terraces  toward  the  river  the 
luxuriant  trellised  grape-vines,  fanned  in  the  fresh  salt 
wind,  turning  now  the  dark  green  surfaces  of  their 
leaves,  and  now  the  snowy  under-side  toward  the  light, 
and  seeming  thus  to  come  and  go  like  the  ghosts  of  little 
children,  or  white-breasted  birds  who  loved  the  sea 
border  and  dallied  around  it,  unable  to  fly  quite  away. 
At  the  dock  the  Shrewsbury  fleet  of  yachts,  sail-boats, 
oyster-crafts,  and  fishing-yawls  lay,  sharing  on  all  their 
hulls,  spars,  and  the  sails  of  such  of  them  as  had  not 
been  furled  for  the  night,  the  beauty  of  the  universal 
chastened  silver,  —  rocking  gently  between  the  sway  of 
the  down  tide  and  the  east  wind,  and  all  lifted  out  of 
their  fairer  or  their  meaner  uses  to  one  common  level 
of  a  moon-glorified,  fairy-lake  flotilla.  And  already  far 
oiit  on  the  measureless  waters  the  golden  feelers  of  the 
revolving  lantern  began  to  creep  vastly,  flashing  now  on 
the  marble  spread  of  distant  ships  that  seemed  motion- 
less, but  were  really  bowling  gayly  on  a  scupper  breeze, 
—  now  on  the  pathless  field  of  the  hillocked  sea,  —  now 
athwart,  and  losing  themselves  in  the  causeway  of  silver 
which  ran  straight  from  the  beach  to  the  front  portal  of 
the  moon.  With  a  hundred  and  fifty  other  gentlemen 
smoking  their  cigars  on  the  Pavilion  terrace,  —  two 
hundred  ladies  dreaming  or  chatting  with  no  covering 
on  their  heads  but  the  tiara  of  the  moonlight, — a  hun- 
dred children  of  all  ages  frolicking  away  the  thought 


92  Little  Brother. 

that  that  kill-pleasure,  bedtime,  was  sooner  or  later  in- 
evitable, —  Dr.  M'Gregor  Morris  sat  in  his  wicker  arm- 
chair, and  agreed  with  Nature  that  she  was  beautiful. 
His  eye  wandered  to  the  other  house  across  the  ravine : 
presently  there  sauntered  forth  upon  the  porch  two  figures 
that  he  knew,— a  lithe  girl's  form,  a  tall  whiskered  cava- 
lier,—  and  the  minute-hand  of  Destiny  seemed  to  run  up 
suddenly  to  striking-point.  It  was  time  to  "look  around." 
The  doctor  cast  one  lingering  glance  on  the  beaming 
earth,  ocean,  and  heaven;  sighed,  threw  away  his  cigar, 
and  repeated  the  words  of  the  Missionary  Hymn,  — 

"  '  Every  prospect  pleases,  and  only  man  is  vile ! ' 

Moon,  I'd  like  to  pay  my  respects  to  you  a  little  longer, 
but  really  I  haven't  time.  Au  revoir  for  the  present !  " 
Only  a  narrow  ravine,  wide  enough  to  admit  the  pas- 
sage of  a  steep  cart-road  down  to  the  river-beach,  sepa- 
rates the  terraced  lawns  of  the  two  houses.  It  is  cus- 
tomary, of  course,  for  gentlemen  at  the  Pavilion  to 
stroll  as  near  the  boundary  fence  of  that  resort  as  they 
please.  Dr.  Morris  availed  himself  of  this  fact,  and,  put- 
ting up  his  collar  for  an  incognito,  lit  another  cigar,  to 
appear  as  nonchalant  as  possible,  and  began  pacing. up 
and  down  the  grassy  border  of  the  lawn  that  looked  to- 
ward the  porch  of  the  next  house.  There  was  nothing 
in  this  act  to  awake  suspicion  in  the  two  who  sat  there 
side  by  side,  half  in  moolight,  half  in  shadow;  they  paid 
no  attention  to  him  whatever,  as  much  because  the  sight 
of  unknown  gentlemen  next  door  was  usual  as  because 


'Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  93 

they  were  preoccupied.  Privacy  in  publicity  is  one  of  the 
many  attainments  easily  acquired  by  the  flirtations,  to  say 
nothing  of  more  earnest  affairs,  of  watering-place  life. 

Before  the  doctor's  cigar  was  smoked  out,  he  had 
come  to  the  following  conclusions  :  That  the  beautiful 
young  girl  on  the  porch  was  in  the  toils  of  the  neighbor- 
ing rascal,  by  force  of  one  of  those  strange  delusions 
which  affect  the  simple  and  the  high-minded  alike.  She 
believed  she  loved  because  she  heard  that  she  was  loved. 
Her  nature,  in  its  first  ardor  of  womanhood,  feeling  out 
into  the  new  world  for  that  necessary  something  to  ex- 
pend its  powers  of  growth  upon,  to  cling  around,  to 
climb  up  to,  had  unfortunately  touched  a  villain.  She 
was  not  to  blame:  in  society,  a  man's  true  self  is  such  a 
deep  down  substratum,  so  overlain  by  successive  layers 
of  constitutional  caution,  educational  reserve,  handsome 
physique,  elegant  manners,  tailor-skill,  and  innumerable 
deceptive  conventional  circumstances,  that  it  is  hard  for 
any  one,  however  world-sharpened,  to  penetrate  the 
crust  and  get  at  the  basis  of  the  human  geological  sys- 
tem. Much  less  for  a  young  girl,  utterly  innocent,  pure- 
hearted,  unread  in  the  book  of  man's  hidden  badnesses, 
who,  moreover,  had  a  father  and  mother  as  frank  and 
unsuspicious  of  evil  as  two  people  could  be  and  live  in 
a  handsome  free-stone  house  in  an  eligible  city  street, 
a  lot  necessarily  attained,  as  times  go,  by  some 
slight  measure  of  worldly  keenness.  She  had  not  really 
loved  yet,  —  something  within  him  made  the  doctor  par- 
ticularly willing  to  believe  that ;  she  was  only  measur- 


94  Little  Brother. 

ing  the  depth  of  her  heart,  and,  striking  on  a  big  slimy 
sea-snake  that  lay  basking  a  little  way  down,  thought 
her  lead  had  touched  the  bottom.  The  doctor  was 
assured  of  this,  and,  in  corroboration,  he  perceived  that 
the  gentleman  was  the  chief  actor  in  the  tete-a-tete 
across  the  way.  He  gestured,  he  talked,  he  bent  down 
over  his  beautiful  victim,  and  altogether  seemed  putting 
forth  his  utmost  power,  live  a  travelling  magnetizer  ex- 
erting his  will  to  get  and  keep  his  subject  "  en  rapport.r 
Kate  listened  to  him,  looked  at  him  motionlessly  as 
a  snake-charmed  bird;  she  was  under  a  spell,  which  the 
doctor  was  also  willing  to  believe  could  be  broken  by 
some  resolute  third  person  with  a  will  as  strong  as  the 
fascinator  and  moral  force  a  trifle  greater. 

Having  "  looked  around  "  to  his  satisfaction,  the  doc- 
tor retired  to  his  room  to  refresh  himself  by  sleep  for 
the  exigency  of  the  morrow.  Immediately  after  break- 
fast the  next  morning  he  despatched,  by  one  of  the  wait- 
ters,  the  following  little  note  to  Mrs.  Jones :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  MADAM,  —  I  am  staying  at  the  Pavilion  for  a  few 
days,  and  would  have  taken  a  still  earlier  opportunity  than  this 
to  pay  my  respects  to  you,  but  for  the  fact  that  I  am  arranging  a 
little  surprise  for  one  of  my  friends,  and  accordingly  wish,  for  a 
few  hours  longer,  to  preserve  my  incognito.  May  I  entrust  the 
secret  of  my  being  here  with  you  until  I  am  able  to  call  in  person, 
and  at  the  same  time  ask  that  my  little  friend  Augustus  may  be 
permitted  to  spend  the  day  with  me,  and,  if  it  is  pleasant,  take  a 
sail  up  the  river  with  me  this  afternoon  ? 

"  Very  truly  your  most  obedient  servant, 

"M'GEEGOR   MOBRIS." 


Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  95 

In  twenty  minutes,  the  boy  brought  back  this 
answer:  — 

"Mr  VERY  DEAR  SIR, —  Your  incognito  is  perfectly  safe 
with  me.  It  will  give  me  the  greatest  pleasure  to  accept  your 
very  kind  invitation  for  Augustus,  and  nothing,  certainly,  could 
be  more  delightful  to  him.  I  am  afraid  the  child  has  very  little 
to  amuse  him  here  ;  he  is  compelled  to  seek  most  of  his  pleasures 
alone,  as  it  is,  perhaps,  hardly  to  be  expected  that  a  boy  of  his 
age  and  somewhat  too  roguish  tendencies  could  prove  very  con- 
genial company  to  a  young  lady  like  my  daughter.  His  father  is 
compelled  to  be  a  good  deal  in  New  York  during  the  day,  and  I 
am  not  as  vigorous  a  playmate  as  he  needs.  This  afternoon, 
Kate,  with  a  friend  of  hers  staying  here,  is  expecting  to  take 
a  sail  on  the  river,  and  I  have  been  puzzling  myself  all  the 
morning  for  some  plan  to  interest  my  little  boy,  in  case,  as  is 
probable,  it  would  be  too  much  trouble  to  make  him  one  of  the 
party.  Your  invitation  is,  therefore,  both  extremely  kind  and 
apropos;  and  as  soon  as  Augustus  can  be  discovered,  recalled 
from  his  crab-fishery,  and  put  into  presentable  condition,  he  shall 
be  sent  over  to  your  room.  We  shall  make  haste  to  give  yon  a 
cordial  welcome  as  soon  as  you  find  it  convenient  to  make  your 
promised  visit. 

"  Sincerely  and  gratefully  your  friend, 

"  CATHARINE  JOKES." 

This  note  was  followed,  in  about  an  hour,  by  Master 
Augustus.  The  doctor  and  he  then  descended  together 
to  the  little  wharf  where  all  the  pleasure-boats  of  the 
Shrewsbury  fleet  still  lay  moored,  it  being  morning  bath- 
hour,  and  all  the  lovers  of  "  a  wet  sheet  and  a  flowing 


96  Little  Brother. 

sea  "  disporting  themselves  in  the  surf  on  the  other  side 
of  the  bar.  The  doctor,  therefore,  had  his  pick  of.  the 
flotilla. 

Leading  Augustus  by  the  hand,  he  went  up  and  down 
the  wharf,  surveying  with  critical  eye  the  different  crafts 
in  respect  to  their  points  for  fast-sailing,  and  at  length 
stood  still  above  a  cat-rigged  boat,  clinker-built,  clean- 
sparred,  compactly  and  sharply  modelled,  which  bore  on 
her  stern  the  name  Shanghai.  For  the  benefit  of  those 
who  do  not  go  down  unto  the  sea  in  cock-boats  and  be- 
hold the  mighty  wonders  that  are  done,  not  only  on 
the  deep,  but  on  shoals,  with  vessels  drawing  one  foot 
water,  I  say,  episodically,  that  the  cat-rig  boat  is  one 
which  carries  a  mainsail  only,  and  is  a  favorite  on  the 
Shrewsbury  river,  where  the  channel,  in  places,  is  so 
extremely  narrow  that  the  short  tacks  one  is  obliged  to 
make  would  be  much  additionally  shortened  by  the  pro- 
jection of  a  bowsprit,  with  the  alternative  of  running 
that  delicate  piece  of  timber  into  the  bank  on  either 
side.  Moreover,  the  cat-boat  can  be  managed  by  one 
man,  in  trolling  for  blue-fish  or  Spanish  mackerel,  with  a 
wind  on  the  bow;  he  can  man  his  main-sheet  with  one 
hand,  feel  his  squid-line  with  the  other,  and  tend  his  til- 
ler between  his  knees.  If  he  carried  a  jib  a  second  hand 
would  be  necessary  to  mind  the  fore-sheet;  or,  in  going 
about  quickly,  it  might  foul,  put  him  in  the  wind's  eye, 
and  set  him  drifting  stern-first,  with  an  eight-pound 
blue-fish  to  help  himself  off  the  squid  with  natural 
alacrity. 


"Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  97 

"  Do  you  know  anything  about  the  Shanghai  ?  "  asked 
the  doctor,  of  his  companion. 

"  I  guess  I  do  !  "  answered  the  youth,  enthusiastically. 

She's  the  fastest  boat  on  this  little  river.  I'm  going  to 
buy  her  when  I'm  a  man,  and  peddle  clams,  if  mother'll 
let  me, —  that  is,  if  I  don't  be  a  lawyer  or  saw  wood." 

"  Then  you've  given  up  the  idea,  since  I  saw  you  first, 
of  going  into  the  bread  business  ?  " 

"  Shut  up  !  "What  do  you  want  to  plague  a  fellow 
for  ?  I  was  a  little  boy  when  I  said  that,  and  I've  trav- 
elled a  good  deal  since.  There's  such  an  awful  nice  man 
sails  that  boat !  He  showed  me  how  to  find  soft  crabs, 
and  he's  given  me  ever  so  many  sails  in  the  Shanghai. 
His  name's  Van  Brunt,  and  I  like  him  better  than  all 
the  other  captains  put  together." 

"  Well,  Augustus,  I  guess,  to  please  you,  we'll  take 
Van  Brunt's  boat  for  this  afternoon." 

So  they  hunted  up  the  master  of  the  Shanghai, — 
were  modestly  corroborated  by  him  in  their  opinion  of 
the  craft's  fast  points,  —  and  engaged  her  from  dinner- 
time until  they  got  tired  or  through,  which,  in  "the  opin- 
ion of  the  doctor  and  Augustus,  would  occur  about 
simultaneously. 

There  are  too  many  sources  of  amusement  at  Shrews- 
bury Highlands,  from  which  the  two  could  have  ex- 
tracted pastime  until  three  o'clock,  p.  M.,  for  me  to 
chronicle  here.  At  that  hour,  as  the  doctor  sat  smoking 
his  after-dinner  cigar  on  the  Pavilion  terrace,  and  Mas- 
ter Augustus  stood  at  his  knee  learning  how  they  cut 
9 


98  Little  Brother. 

people's  legs  off,  for  his  post-prandial  sedative,  and  very 
much  disappointed  to  hear  that  the  doctor  could  not 
also  add  any  description  from  eye-witness  of  the  ampu- 
tation of  heads,  Morris,  who  had  been  all  the  time 

watching  the  wharf,  "  out  of  the  tail  o'  his  eye,"  saw 

« 
Mr.  Lilykid  assist  Miss  Jones  into  the  vessel  known  as 

My  Own  Mary  Ann,  and  take  the  tiller  in  his  hand. 
The  captain  of  the  craft  proffered  his  assistance,— 
seemed  even  disposed  to  come  on  board  and  sail  the 
Mary  Ann  for  them,  —  but  the  man  devoted  to  society 
waved  him  off  with  a  courtly  gesture  of  the  hand,  and 
signified  his  ability  to  manage  for  himself. 

As  soon  as  the  Mary  Ann  glided  from  the  wharf,  the 
doctor  told  Augustus  to  follow  him  as  quick  as  possible, 
and  started  with  all  speed  for  the  Shanghai.  Van 
Brunt  had  her  ready  for  him,  and,  without  losing  a  mo- 
ment's time,  the  two  tumbled  aboard,  and  the  lithe  little 
cat  ran  out  into  the  stream.  Her  captain,  from  the 
wharf,  watched  her  for  a  moment,  to  be  sure  of  the  sea- 
manship of  the  doctor,  and  then  retired,  perfectly  satis- 
fied, to  the  little  oyster  and  soft-crab  stand  at  the  foot 
of  the  Pavilion  steps,  where  his  cronies  most  did  con- 
gregate. The  wind  was  blowing  fresh  down  the  river, — 
that '  is,  toward  its  mouth  at  Sandy  Hook,  though 
Shrewsbury  people  persist  in  calling  that  direction  up, 
referring  all  motion  to  New  York  as  the  head  of  things, 
—  but  the  tide  was  at  the  first  quarter  of  a  particularly 
strong  flood,  and  it  was  very  easy  for  a  skilful  hand  to 
beat  up  as  far  as  Minturn's  Point,  —  a  bald  promontory 


Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  99 

of  the  Highlands  where  the  river  divides,  one  branch 
bending  at  right  angles  westward  to  Red  Bank,  and  the 
other  keeping  straight  on  to  the  southward  to  Branch 
Port,  the  point  of  debarkation  for  Long  Branch.  Once 
around  the  point,  and  a  boat  could  lay  her  course,  tak- 
ing the  southerly  wind  abeam  and  the  favoring  tide  all 
the  way  to  the  Bank. 

The  boat  that  Mr.  Lilykid  had  was  a  good  sailer  in 
good  hands,  but  still  not  to  compare  with  the  Shanghai, 
which  was  of  lighter  model,  from  her  clinker  build 
"lifted  quicker,"  spread  more  mainsail,  and  trimmed 
closer  to  the  wind  by  several  points.  At  the'  present 
time  the  Mary  Ann  was  not  in  remarkably  good  hands, 
made  her  tacks  irresolutely  (on  the  second  one  from  the 
wharf  nearly  missing  stays  as  she  went  about)}  and  did 
not  take  advantage  of  the  flaws,  but  luffed  when  she 
ought  to  keep  on.  Morris  was  a  good  sailor  for  an 
amateur,  and  possessed  what  is  an  advantage  to  all  but 
practised  professionals,  a  small  pennant  to  steer  by, 
while  the  object  of  his  chase  had  none,  and  was  com- 
pelled to  watch  the  leach  of  his  sail.  So  that  the  Shang- 
hai overhauled  him  rapidly. 

Still  the  old  saw,  that  "  a  starn  chase  is  a  long  chase," 
might  have  come  true  but  for  one  little  fact  which  Mr. 
Lilykid  did  not  know,  and  whose  knowledge  the  doctor 
owed  solely  to  that  keen-eyed  young  observer  of  men 
and  things,  Augustus.  About  ten  rods  out  from  Min- 
turn's  Point  a  weedy  shallow  commences  and  runs  in  a 
south-easterly  direction  almost  entirely  across  to  the 


ioo  Little  Brother. 

bar,  compelling  those  who  prefer  the  channel  to  getting 
aground  to  hug  the  point  as  closely  as  possible.  The 
doctor,  being  put  in  possession  of  this  bit  of  informa- 
tion, made  his  last  long  tack  completely  across  from  the 
bar  to  the  point,  and  then  luffed  up  a  little  to  pass 
through  the  narrow  channel.  Mr.  Lilykid,  being  ig- 
norant of  it,  kept  more  away  while  he  was  still  to  wind- 
ward of  the  Shanghai,  expecting  to  make  a  clear  run  up 
the  north  bend  of  the  river  which  now  opened  straight 
before  him.  So  that,  just  as  Morris  passed  the  point, 
Lilykid's  ears  were  greeted  by  that  ignoble  and  re- 
pulsive sound,  the  grinding  of  the  sand  upon  his  keel, 
and  the  next  moment,  with  a  prolonged  groan  and  a 
dead  thud,  the  Mary  Ann  became  an  unexpected  guest 
in  the  eel-grass  and  mud-bowers  of  the  treacherous 
Shrewsbury  amphitrite.  Augustus  gave  a  prolonged 
crow,  and  stood  up  on  the  centre-board  to  the  imminent 
danger  of  his  little  shins'  more  intimate  acquaintance 
with  a  jibing  boom.  The  doctor  pulled  him  down  di- 
rectly, and  told  him  to  keep  out  of  sight  for  the  present, 
at  the  same  time  putting  the  Shanghai  right  into  the 
wind's  eye  to  drift  slowly  with  the  tide,  till  he  "  looked 
around  "  a  little  further. 

For  the  first  time  he  now  saw  Kate  plainly.  She 
thought  something  dreadful  had  happened,  —  feared 
that  the  Mary  Ann  had  been  stove  in,  —  and  was  lean- 
ing over  the  gunwale,  very  beautiful  but  pale  as  death. 
Mr.  Lilykid,  for  his  part,  did  all  that  was  possible  for 
a  man  to  do;  standing  on  his  quarter-deck  and  calling 


Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  101 

with  his  might  and  main  to  the  unknown  crew  of  the 
Shanghai  to  "  come  heah  I "  Ah  !  he  little  knew  how 
ready  they  were  to  answer  that  hail.  The  next  minute 
the  Shanghai  had  backed  out  of  her  narrow  channel 
by  the  utmost  exertions  of  the  doctor  with  a  long  sweep? 
and  stood  over  to  their  shoal.  Only  the  bows  of  the 
Mary  Ann  were  grounded;  her  stern  lay  in  such  deep 
water  that  the  Shanghai  run  her  bow  close  up  without 
danger  of  sharing  the  catastrophe.  "With  a  loose  coil  of 
the  main-halliard  Dr.  Morris  quickly  made  fast,  and 
then  in  the  calmest  possible  tone  said,  — 

"  Miss  Jones,  permit  me  to  assist  you  on  board  our 
craft." 

She  looked  at  him  searchingly,  recognized  him,  and 
the  marble  whiteness  of  her  face  changed  to  an  intense 
crimson  flush;  but  she  leaped  on  board  the  Shanghai, 
and  passed  to  the  stern,  where  she  sat  down,  just  notic- 
ing Augustus,  and  hid  her  face  in  her  handkerchief. 
With  a  cheerful,  graceful  step,  acquired  probably  from 
practice  in  the  Chasseurs  during  his  life-long  devotion 
to  society,  Mr.  Lilykid  next  advanced,  and  was  about  to 
step  upon  the  bow  of  the  Shanghai  when  the  hand  of 
the  doctor  gently  kept  him  back. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  but  there  is  no  room  for  you  on 
board  this  boat." 

"  Weally,  Mistah,  I  don't  know  your  name,  but  this  is 
most  extwa-awdinawy  conduct !  Not  woom  ?  Why, 
I've  known  thnt  cwaft  of  youahs  to  cawwy  twenty- 
live  !  " 


102  Little  Brother. 

"  Really,  Mister,  I  do  know  your  names,  —  this  may  be 
true,  —  but  were  you  ever  cognizant  of  its  carrying  Mr. 
Lilykid  and  Lord  Kocamblebury,  and  Pennyroyal  Pike, 
and  English  Jimmy  the  Gentleman,  and  Andrew  Bed- 
ding ?  I  put  it  to  your  good  sense  whether  so  many  of  you 
wouldn't  sink  us  ?  I  object,  my  dear  sir,  to  the  Shang- 
hai's having  anything  to  do  with  your  transportation: 
this  is  not  a  convict  ship,  and  I  am  not  a  police-officer. 
Though  I  have  had  the  pleasure  of  knowing  some  who 
were  intimately  acquainted  with  you,  and  recollect  be- 
ing present  on  one  occasion  at street  station,  where 

you  were  detained  from  a  little  party,  but  found  bail  it 
seems.  However,  in  going,  let  me  advise  you  to  keep 
clear  of  the  Highlands,  as  soon  as  the  tide  rises,  for 
there  may  be  gentlemen  here  to  see  you  by  this  even- 
ing's boat.  I  just  drop  the  hint.  Good-day." 

As  the  doctor  concluded  this  long  speech,  —  some- 
what too  long  to  be  put  among  the  terse  and  remarka- 
ble sayings  which  have  become  immortal,  but  not  too 
long  for  his  object,  which  was  delicately  to  enlighten 
Miss  Jones  as  to  the  character  of  the  man  her  inno- 
cence had  trusted,  —  he  shoved  off  the  Shanghai  and 
sprang  to  the  helm  just  in  time,  for,  as  the  little  craft 
swung  around  on  to  the  wind  again,  a  puff  came  which 
nearly  brought  the  water  up  to  her  lee  combings.  Just 
then  the  mute  astonishment  and  rage  of  the  devotee  of 
society  gave  way  to  a  fierce  and  undisguised  expression 
of  the  same  emotions;  he  uttered  language  which  it  is 
to  be  hoped  he  had  never  practised  in  the  depth  of  his 


Enough  of  a  Boy.  103 

elei:;int  solitude,  and  wrenching  out  an  awning-pin 
which  stood  at  the  bow  of  the  Mary  Ann,  sprang  for 
the  deck  of  his  foe.  Sprang,  but  fell  about  three  feet 
short,  and  as  Kate  cried  out  in  terror  not  to  let  him 
drown,  took  that  trouble  for  himself,  wading  back  to  the 
stranded  vessel,  a  very  wet  but  by  no  means  a  cool 
gentlemen.  To  conclude  forever  this  fragment  of  the 
Lilykiddian  biography,  let  me  say  that  as  the  tide  rose 
the  Marg  Ann  floated  again,  and.  putting  her  before  the 
wind,  her  unfortunate  captain  sped  for  the  coast  that  is 
nigh  unto  Keyport,  and  there  running  her  ashore,  de- 
parted for  quarters  unknown  to  those  gentlemen  of  the 
detached  service  who  came  up  to  visit  him  on  the"  even- 
ing boat.  And  the  rest  of  the  acts  of  Lilykid,  are  they 
not  recorded  in  the  unwritten  imprecations  of  Jem 
Conkrite  the  craft's  owner,  who,  with  much  expense  of 
"  hallowed  sweat "  and  unhallowed  breath,  reclaimed  the 
Mary  Ann  from  the  waters  of  Raritan  Bay,  with  a 
broken  gaff  and  a  splintered  centre-board,  and  after 
repairing  the  same  got  out  a  writ  with  innumerable 
aliases  for  his  absconded  debtor,  which  remaineth 
unserved  unto  this  day  ? 

In  ten  minutes  from  the  shoving  off  of  the  Shanghai 
she  was  moored  again  at  the  Pavilion  wharf.  During 
that  short  trip  the  doctor,  yea,  even  Augustus,  did  all 
that  lay  in  their  power  to  arouse  Kate  from  the  terrible 
dream  in  which  she  seemed  immured  almost  from  all 
outer  help.  Morris,  by  the  most  assiduous,  unobtrusive 
attention,  —  by  speaking,  without  apparent  intention, 


104  Little  Brother. 

of  other  things  than  those  just  present,  —  attempted  to 
make  her  feel  that  he  could  not  possibly  be  in  possession 
of  her  secret.  And  Augustus  —  if  not  yet  quite  fit  to 
be  an  angel,  and  with  the  angels  stand  —  proved  him- 
self worthy  of  belonging  to  quite  as  good  a  class  of 
spirits,  for  our  earthly  purposes  at  least;  namely,  those 
who  run  about  instead  of  standing  among  our  human 
sinners  and  sufferers,  and  make  them  as  comfortable  as 
possible  with  all  sorts  of  faithful  kindness. 

As  the  doctor  lifted  Kate  ashore,  she  spoke  almost  for 
the  first  time,  — 

"  Is  that  man  really  all  you  told  him  he  was  ?  " 

Th*e  doctor  bowed,  and  put  into  her  hand  a  little 
package  of  papers  containing  the  data  of  the  police- 
office. 

';  Then  God  bless  you  !  "  said  she,  pressing  his  hand 
with  a  look  of  imutterable  gratitude.  "  You  saved  Au- 
gustus; and  now,  —  you  will  never  know  on  earth  what 
good  you  have  done  me  !  " 


IV.  BEING  A  FEW  FRAGMENTS  FROM  THE  LIFE  OF  THE 
BOY  AND  HIS  FRIENDS. 

But  the  doctor  did  know,  and  on  earth,  too  (though 
his  feet  did  not  seem  to  be  exactly  touching  it  at  the 
time),  the  good  he  had  done,  and  was  to  do,  for  the  little 
brother's  sister. 


Just  Enough  of  a  Boy.  105 

During  the  same  summer,  toward  its  close,  a  little 
bird,  swinging  on  the  twig  of  one  of  those  trees  which, 
at  the  upper  point  of  Goat  Island,  look  toward  the  Ni- 
agara Kapids,  caught  this  little  bit  of  a  talk  and 
brought  it  to  me. 

"  And  can  you  really,  —  with  all  the  jealous,  unshar- 
ing,  rival-hating  heart  of  a  man,  still  love  me  ?  Me, 
whose  heart  once  went  so  bitterly  astray,  and  was 
nearly  wrecked  forever  ?  " 

"  Not  your  heart,  Kate  ;  your  head  only  !  You  were 
merely  feeling  your  depth,  —  or,  better  still,  merely  try- 
ing your  strength  to  mount.  If  you  thought  you  had 
reached  your  full  height,  is  not  that  what  many  do,  and 
then  sit  sadly  on  the  lower  stairs0  unsatisfied,  pining, 
miserable;  looking  with  despair  through  a  whole  life  on 
the  bright  blessed  height,  far  over  them,  to'  which  they 
might  have  scaled ;  knowing  that  not  their  heart  at  all, 
but  their  young,  untaught  head,  has  brought  this  spell- 
bound wretchedness  upon  them  ?  And.  shall  I  love  you 
less  for  remembering  the  ladder  on  which  you  climbed 
up  to  a  true  man's  soul,  —  believing  in  my  heart  of 
hearts  that  you  have  now  reached  your  height  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  have  reached  it." 

"  God  bless  my  darling!  " 

There  was  a  wedding  in  Twenty-third  street.  Little 
Brother  sat  up  to  it,  without  doing  the  most  trifling 
thing  that  was  disagreeable.  Indeed,  the  little  Misses 
Blummerie  said  he  was  charming  !  And  he  did  both 


io6  Little  Brother.- 

look  and  act  as  handsomely  as  any  youth  who  longed 
to  put  away  the  enfant  terrible  part  of  boy  character 
possibly  could.  His  chief  amusement,  when  not  bring- 
ing up  little  girls  by  the  hour  together  to  kiss  the  bride, 
consisted  in  poking  with  his  small  finger  the  side  of  the 
groom's  Avhite  satin  waistcoat,  and  whispering,  with 
most  amiable  inaudibleness,  — 

"  Didn't  we  dish  him,  old  fellow  ?  —  say  !  " 

About  one  o'clock,  A.  M.,  when  the  little  girls  had 
gone  and  the  big  ones  were  going,  Master  Augustus 
yielded  to  Nature's  kind  restorer,  and  was  surrendered 
to  her  in  a  state  of  most  unreserved  capitulation. 

Just  before  the  lights  were  turned  off  for  the  night, 
the  new  bride  and  bridegroom  stole  into  the  little  bed- 
chamber where  the  little  brother  was  sleeping,  as  he 
was  wont  to  brag,  "  all  alone  by  himself." 

They  both  bent  down  and  kissed  the  rosy  cheek 
which,  under  its  curly  corn-silk,  was  lying  on  the  little 
open  palm;  looked  tenderly  at  him,  and  then  at  each 
other. 

"  Once  you  thought  he  was  a  little  imp." 

"  And  now  I  think  he  is  a  little  angel." 

And  what  they  both  thought  was,  that  it  was  not 
such  a  bad  thing  to  have  a  little  brother  after  all. 


FLEEING  TO  TARSHISH. 

(107) 


FLEEING  TO  TABSHISH. 
i. 

OE  three  years  Jonas  Moddle  had  been  a  daily 
student  of  Greek  and  Hebrew.  He  was  just  out 
of  the  Theological  Seminary  —  Reverend,  and 
thinking  himself  reverable.  He  not  only  knew 
the  original  for  the  contested  passages  in  St. 
John,  but  what  Moses  has  said  on  a  subject  which  inter- 
ests nobody  e'xcept  the  Cohoes  Mastodon.  He  was  a 
splendid  Hebrew  geologist,  and  a  noble  fossil  minister. 
In  Greek  he  needed  no  lexicon.  In  Hebrew  he  found 
more  trouble  on  account  of  the  left-hand-way  of  read- 
ing; but  still  knew  enough  to  dig  out  an  ingenious  der- 
ivation in  support  of  an  accepted  theory.  (Grecians 
and  Hebrseans  will  know  what  I  mean.) 

He  also  knew  some  English.  In  exegesis  he  was  un- 
rivalled. On  a  single  passage  he  would  say  more  than 
any  other  member  of  the  class  on  the  four  gospels.  The 
wonderful  sermon,  in  which  he  electrified  all  the  breth- 
ren, by  proving  the  whole  plan  of  salvation  from  the 
text,  "  Og,  King  of  Bashan,"  will  never  be  forgotten  by 
the  alumni  of  St.  Elymas. 

7  (109) 


no  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

So  promising  a  young  man  could  not  be  without 
"  calls."  Almost  simultaneously,  and  within  a  week  of 
his  ordination,  he  received  two  invitations  to  become  a 
settled  minister.  One  from  the  Church  of  St.  Simon 
Stylites,  in  New  York,  another  from  a  feeble  but 
struggling  organization  in  a  small  town  of  Western 
Missouri.  On  the  very  day  he  received  both  these  in- 
vitations, he  attended  a  missionary  anniversary,  and 
heard  a  Western  rector  give"  some  account  of  the  state 
of  religion  in  his  section.  Christianity,  out  there,  seemed 
at  a  low  ebb.  Six  weeks  previous,  he  had  lost  one  of 
his  wardens-in  a  knife-fight  with  a  Presbyterian  deacon 
upon  the  subject  of  free-will.  The  survivor  retained  too 
much  sectarian  prejudice  to  come  to  the  funeral.  Some 
people,  to  attend  his  service,  rode  twenty  miles  over  the 
worst  roads  in  Christendom,  —  the  women,  like  the  men, 
on  horseback,  and  frequently  astride.  His  parochial  in- 
come last  year  amounted  to  $420.  He  had  repeatedly 
preached  to  an  audience  of  but  a  dozen  whites;  though, 
he  added  with  some  hesitation,  —  as  if  apologizing  for  the 
fact,  and  not-  feeling  entirely  sure  but  there  was  some- 
thing political  in  it,  —  a  humble  variety  of  piety  pre- 
vailed rather  widely  among  the  negroes. 

After  the  meeting  was  over,  Mr.  Moddle  sought  an 
introduction  to  Mr.  Bowers,  and  inquired  of  him  if,  in 
his  peregrinations  through  his  section,  he  had  ever  heard 
of  such  a  place  as  Muddy  Creek.  "  It  is  the  next  parish 
to  mine,"  replied  Mr.  Bowers,  "  and  dreadfully  in  need 
of  an  able  man  it  is  !  I  sometimes  run  across  when  the 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  in 

roads  are  passable,  and  I've  not  got  too  tired  through 
the  week,  to  hold  an  evening  service  there.  But  there's 
astonishing  little  interest  there  about  church  matters. 
The  few  people  that  know  they've  got  souls  to  save  come 
pretty  regular,  and  the  very  chief  of  'em,  Binks,  is  an 
earnest  Christian  man;  but,  dear  me!  they  can  hardly 
get  together  enough  congregation  to  take  the  loneliness 
out  of  a  jury-room  in  the  court-house." 

"Ah,  indeed!"  replied  Mr.  Moddle;  and  then  he 
went  home  to  look  over  his  letters.  The  one  from  Mr. 
Binks  was  upon  half  a  sheet  of  commercial  bill-paper, 
and,  although  not  a  remarkably  fine  specimen  of  a 
churchman's  hand,  made  up  for  it  on  the  margin  by  sev- 
eral very  accurate  impressions  of  his  thumb.  It  was 
sealed  with  a  red  wafer,  and  this  is  a  correct  transcript 

of  it:  — 

"  MUDDY  CKEEK,  Mo.,  May  9. 

"Eev.  J.  MODDLE:  Dear  Sir, — Making  a  tower  to  the 
eastward  this  spring,  I  went  to  New  York.  While 
there,  I  heard  you  preach.  It  was  in  that  white  church 
up  Broadway.  I  hadn't  for  a  long  time  heard  a  sermon 
so  able  as  that  was;  by  it  my  soul  was  enlargd.  Now 
there  are  two  things  we  want  out  here  to  Muddy,  —  an 
able  man,  and  a  place  to  praise  God  in.  If  we  can  get 
the  former,  I'm  sure  we  can  get  the  latter.  We  are  a 
mighty  little  flock  now;  but  we're  all  of  us  faithful  and 
our  hearts  is  set.  Even  while  we  have  to  worship  in  the 
court-house  we  don't  forget  the  assembling  of  ourselves 
together;  and  if  we  had  a  good  strong  man  to  help  us 


H2  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

we'd  put  our  shoulders  to  the  wheel  with  him ;  and,  my 
dear  sir,  it's  in  my  heart  to  believe  we  could  get  the 
-Lord's  charriat  out  of  this  slew.  The  whole  country 
round  about  seems  given  up,  —  if  we  didn't  know  the 
Lord  never  gives  anything  up.  There's  but  few  reapers 
out  here  for  the  harvest,  though  the  field  is  white  with 
it.  Such  lots  of  men  and  women  and  little  boys  and  girls 
that  don't  know  anything  about  the  gospel,  and  havn't 
nobody  to  tell  'em  —  my  heart  does  feel  for  'em  too  ! 
If  you'll  come  to  us,  my  dear  sir,  we're  ready  to  shear 
our  best  with  you.  We  can  only  pledge  six  hundred  a 
year  for  the  first  year;  but  till  we  do  better,  there's  a 
home  in  my  family  for  you,  and  welcome.  The  salary 
is  not  much,  but  time  will  raise  it.  "We'll  all  of  us  feel 
as  if  we  could  live  better  when  the  church  is  built  up. 
So  that  will  change;  but  there's  one  thing  never  will 
change,  my  dear  sir,  and  that  is  the  sureness  you  may 
feel  of  finding  us  to  your  back  whenever  hard  pushing's 
wanted  in  the  work  of  the  Lord.  Please  consider,  and 

write  to  direction  of 

"  Yours  resp'y, 

"ROBERT  BIXKS." 

The  other  note  was  much  briefer,  —  had  at  its  head  a 
monogram  in  mediaeval  letters  of  bright  scarlet,  —  smelt 
of  cedar-lined  secretaries,  —  was  sealed  with  a  coat  of 

arms,  and  read  thus:  — 

"NEW  YORK,  May  15th. 

"  Rev.  JONAS  MODDLE  :  Dear  Sir,  —  I  am  instructed 
by  the  vestry  and  wardens  of  St.  Simon  Stylites  to  an- 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  113 

nounce  that  at  their  meeting  on  the  12th  inst,  you  were 
unanimously  elected  to  the  rectorship  of  their  church. 
Should  you  gratify  us  by  accepting  that  mark  of  the  high 
regard  in  which  we  hold  you,  please  grant  me  an  early 
reply.  I  have  only  further  to  say,  that  we  have  at  your 
disposal  a  rectory  attached  to  the  church,  and  the  paro- 
chial income  of  our  clergyman  is  $4000  per  ann. 

"  I  remain,  Rev.  and  Dear  Sir,  resp'y  yours, 
"  M.  CATESBY  SPROULL, 

«  Clerk  of  Vestry" 

Mr.  JVIoddle  read  both  letters  with  profound  attention, 
—  laid  them  on  the  table,  —  clasped  his  hands  across  the 
back  of  his  head,  and  tipped  back  his  chair.  The  balanc- 
ing attitude  of  his  body  was  only  symbolic  of  the  pos- 
ture of  his  mind.  Poor  both  in  its  style  and  its  proffers 
as  was  the  letter  from  Missouri,  there  was  no  denying 
that  it  moved  him.  After  that,  and  the  testimony  ef  the 
Rev.  Joseph  Bowers,  it  was  impossible  to  doubt  that 
Muddy  Creek  needed  a  highly  able  man,  and  was  a  vast 
field  of  usefulness. 

Nobody  familiar  with  his  own  nature  can  need  an 
enumeration  of  the  arguments  which  St.  Simon  Stylites 
pleaded  in  its  favor  to  a  human  heart.  But  apart  from 
the  worldly  splendor  of  the  position,  was  to  be  consid- 
ered the  question  whether  a  much  less  able  man  than  the 
Rev.  Jonas  would  not  do  for  Muddy  Creek;  and  the 
scholarly  eminence  he  had  spent  so  much  pains  in  acquir- 
ing be  quite  thrown  away  in  that  section,  though  most 
7* 


114  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

advantageous  in  New  York.  This  thought  involved 
subtle  casuistry.  Self  is  a  veiled  client,  and  never  ap- 
pears at  the  bar  of  conscience  in  person.  The  "duty  of 
using  advantages  argued  on  its  side  and  that  of  St.  Si- 
mon. If  the  judge  granted  its  suit,  was  he  acting  more 
through  favor  to  it  or  conviction  by  its  advocate  ? 

Casuistry  keeps  things  tipped  back  on  two  legs  for  a 
long  time.  Mr.  Moddle's  chair  might  have  remained  in 
that  position  till  tea-time,  had  not  a  classmate  hurriedly 
called  in  at  the  seminary  room,  which  he  was  still  occu- 
pying, to  borrow  his  valise  for  a  trip  to  New  York,  —  a 
city  situated  only  a  shirt  and  two  collars  distant  from 
the  gables  of  St.  Elymas. 

"  Just  time  to  dump  in  a  few  things  and  reach  the 
train  !  "  said  young  brother  Chawsuble.  "  Where  is  it  ?  " 

"  On  the  floor  in  the  closet.  When  are  you  coming 
back  ?  " 

"  Day  after  to-morrow  morning.  Where's  the  key  ? 
Oh!  here  it  is." 

"  I've  a  great  mind  to  go  with  you  "  — 

"  Will  you,  though  ?  Capital !  You  can  stay  at  my 
aunt's  with  me." 

Mr.  Moddle  wanted  the  last  volume  of  Alford,  and 
had  long  been  intending  to  have  his  name  gilded  on  the 
back  of  a  prize  Gesenius.  Besides,  he  might  consult  with 
some  of  the  elder  clergy  oh  the  subject  of  his  choice, 
and,  if  he  made  up  his  mind,  see  the  vestry  of  St.  Simon 
Stylites  in  person.  His  chair  came  down  on  its  full  num- 
ber of  legs;  and  in  a  couple  of  minutes  more  the  room 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  115 

in  the  valise  was  shared  between  him  and  Mr.  Chawsu- 
ble.  Just  before  leaving  the  apartment,  he  took  the  two 
letters  from  the  mantel-piece,  and  inserted  them,  at  haz- 
ard, between  the  leaves  of  a  big  family  Bible,  which 
adorned  the  table  under  his  looking-glass. 

During  their  short  ride  on  the  cars,  the  noise  prevented 
conversation,  and  the  studently  habits  of  the  two  had 
too  much  taxed  their  eyes  to  permit  of  their  reading  sen- 
tences which  bounced  along  at  forty  miles  the  hour. 
Mr.  Chawsuble  was  going  to  see  a  sweet  girl  to  whom 
he  was  affianced,  and  in  view  of  that  meeting  found  both 
ample  and  satisfactory  occupation  for  his  mind  in  the  set 
and  polish  of  a  new  pair  of  patent-leathers,  favorably 
placed  for  contemplation  upon  the  opposite  cushion. 
Mr.  Moddle,  left  to  the  companionship  of  his  thoughts, 
found  less  that  was  gratifying  in  them.  If  a  contented 
mind  is  a  perpetual  feast,  an  unsettled  one  is  a  supper 
of  the  Barmecide.  There  is  all  the  porcelain  and  silver 
ware  of  possible  advantage,  but  no  succulent  fruition  in 
the  whole  of  it.  At  last,  wearied  out  with  the  air-beat- 
ing gymnastics  of  casuistry,  Mr.  Moddle  laid  his  head 
back  on  the  neck-rest  and  tried  to  doze.  The  ruckety- 
tuckety-tuck  of  the  car-wheels  seemed  rhythmically  to 
carry  on  his  cogitations  for  him,  with  their  accustomed 
wondrous  trans! atability  by  the  imagination,  now  saying, 
"  My  heart  does  feel  for  'em  too;  "  and  now  "  Four 
thousand  a —  year  and  a  — •  rectory.  Little  by  little  this 
dactylic  beat  became  more  and  more  independent  of  Mr. 
Moddle's  volition,  and  he  was  sound  asleep  before  the 


n6  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

next  station  closed  the  measure  with  a  protracted  spon- 
dee. Each  succeeding  stop  interrupted  his  slumber  but 
a  moment,  and  he  was  not  thoroughly  aroused  until 
Mr.  Chawsuble  shook  him  up  to  join  the  crowd  in  their 
stampede  for  the  ferry-boat. 

The  roar  and  glare  of  the  great  city  acted  on  him, 
homoeopathically,  like  a  sedative.  Having  taken  a 
Fifth  avenue  stage,  as  that  vehicle  turned  j.n  at  Eleventh 
street,  he  remembered  that  one  of  St.  Simon's  vestrymen 
lived  right  on  his  route  up-town.  He  accordingly  told 
Chawsuble  that  he  would  be  at  the  house  of  the  latter's 
aunt  about  nine  o'clock,  and  stay  all  night  if  she  invited 
him,  —  in  the  mean  time  making  a  call  on  Mr.  Mansion. 
The  vestryman's  parlor  was  a  soul-entrancing  contrast 
to  the  bare  and  dingy  primness  of  the  scholastic  cells  at 
St.  Elymas.  It  was  a  warm  May  twilight,  and  through 
the  open  balcony  window  the  bland  sea-breeze  fanned 
an  exquisite  fragrance  from  the  wistarias  which  climbed 
to  the  second  story.  The  gas  had  not  yet  been  lighted ; 
for  the  lingering  purple  of  the  western  sky  made  the 
room  winy  with  its  reflection.  It  was  like  looking  at 
life  through  a  medium  of  rich  old  port,  and  no  Vandal 
had  come  to  dispel  the  illusion  by  any  sallow,  artificial 
glare.  The  room  was  yet  sufficiently  illuminated  to 
suggest  that  the  Mansions  possessed  excellent  taste  in  art, 
showing  upon  the  walls  two  delicious  Kensetts,  a  Col- 
man,  a  Gignoux,  and  one  picture  each,  in  their  loveliest 
vein,  by  Inness  and  Gilford.  Mellowed  by  the  twilight, 
these  paintings  seemed  less  what  they  were  than  magi- 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  117 

cal  windows,  through  which  the  eye  could  look  from  one 
standing-place  into  many  far  and  beautiful  countries. 
Mr.  Moddle  sank  into  one  of  the  luxurious  divans  as  into 
a  pleasant  velvet  grave;  and  as  he  admiringly  drew 
across  his  knee  a  superbly  blooming  afghan,  which  hung 
there,  he  could  realize  the  emotions  with  which  a  person 
who  has  died  in  the  odor  of  sanctity  comes  back  to  find 
his  body  reposing  under  rich  turf  and  daffodils.  Fresh 
roses,  mignonette,  and  daphne  were  in  a  small  Etruscan 
vase  upon  a  malachite  stand  near  the  arch;  in  all  but 
perfume  the  exquisite  flowers  of  the  carpet  were  scarce- 
ly less  real.  The  furniture  was  all  carven  of  the  richest 
woods,  and  the  ceiling  was  panelled,  with  lovely  faces 
between  the  divisions.  A  great  rack,  siipported  by  black 
walnut  sphynxes,  held  in  one  corner  a  portfolio  bulging 
with  rare  studies  and  engravings.  Everywhere  about 
the  room,  in  graceful  disorder,  were  scattered  articles  of 
vertu  and  reminiscence  of  travel;  comic  statuettes  from 
the  Boulevards ;  chalets  in  orange  and  apple  wood  from 
Berne;  Buddhist  charms  from  Yeddo;  lacrymatories 
from  the  catacombs;  and  bronzes  from  Pompeii. 

While  Mr.  Moddle  sat  waiting  for  Mr.  Mansion,  the 
door  of  the  back  parlor  opened  and  some  one  passed  in 
without  noticing  his  presence.  As  his  own  eyes  were 
turned  toward  the  sky  and  the  wistarias,  he  only  heard 
a  footfall,  and,  having  once  turned  his  head  enough  to 
see  that  it  was  not  approaching  him,  pursued  the  pleas- 
ant devotional  train  which  had  been  set  in  motion  by  his 
surroundings.  A  moment  after  and  a  skilful  hand,  in 


u8  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

the  room  behind  him,  was  striking  the  opening  chords 
of  a  harp-arrangement  of  Lumbye's  "  Traumbilder." 
The  instrument  was  one  too  rarely  found  in  any  circle. 
The  circle  in  which  Mr.  Moddle  had  moved  was  so  little 
conversant  with  it,  that,  after  momentarily  taking  it  for 
a  piano,  he  started  with  curiosity  to  see  what  it  was,  then 
bethought  himself  what  it  must  be,  and  leaned  back  again 
into  his  pleasant  grave.    His  action  evidently  had  not 
been  so  demonstrative  as  to  betray  his  presence,  for  the 
skilful  hand  went  on  throwing  its  magic  shuttle  through 
the  warp  of  the  strings,  as  unconsciously  as  if  there  were 
no  one  within  a  thousand  leagues  to  be  wrapt  in  its  web 
of  grarnarye.     Mr.  Moddle  was  glad  that  the  owner  of 
the  hand  had  not  seen  him,  —  that  Mr.  Mansion  had  not 
arrived  to  talk  with  him,  for  he  was  now  able  to  shut  his 
eyes  and  give  himself  entirely  up  to  the  enchantment. 
When  the  invisible  player  came  to  the  exquisite  passage, 
written  as  a  Cithara  solo  in  the  original,  and  of  course 
transcribed  for  the  highest  strings  of  the  harp,  Mr. 
Moddle  felt  as  if  there  were  nothing  good  and  lovely  of 
which  the  human  soul  is  not  capable,  and  experienced  a 
foretaste  of  that  sweet,  self-approving  peace  which  be- 
longs to  those  who  have  become  perfected  already.    He 
thought  St.  Catharine,  carried  to  heaven  by  angels,  must 
have  felt  where  their  fingers  touched  her,  thrills  such  as 
these  which  came  to  his  nature  to  blend  with  the  twilight 
and  the  odors.    Just  as  the  player  struck  the  chords  of 
the  finale,  a  door  flew  abruptly  open  right  behind  him, 
and  a  hurried  voice  exclaimed,  — 


Fleeing  to    Tarskish.  119 

"  Sorry  to  have  kept  you  waiting,  Mr.  Moddle ;  but 
fact  is  I've  had  a  meeting  of  the  Ronkus  River  Railroad 
Directors  in  my  library  ever  since  second  board.  First 
moment  I've  had  to  see  you;  hope  you're  well:  got 
Sproull's  letter  ?  Thought  likely.  You'll  stay  to  din- 
ner, of  course.  Jane  !  Jane  !  Where  is  she  ?  Thought 
I  heard  her  playing  on  the  harp  "  — 

Somewhere  in  the  midst  of  this  rapid  address,  Mr. 
Moddle  found  an  interstice  to  thrust  his  hand  and  get  it 
shaken.  As  Mr.  Mansion  concluded  his  sentence,  a  lady 
stepped  out  of  the  shadow  and  came  toward  them. 

"  Oh,  here  you  are  !  Let  me  present  Mr.  Moddle,  my 
dear:  —  Mrs.  Mansion,  Mr.  Moddle,  —  our  future  rector 
you  know,  Mrs.  Mansion." 

Mr.  Moddle  was  about  to  stammer  something  which 
might  politely  indicate  that  if  Mrs.  Mansion  did  know 
she  was  better  oft'  than  he  was,  when  Mrs.  Mansion  came 
into  the  full  illumination  of  the  spring  twilight,  and 
stopped  him,  —  stopped  him  no  more  by  the  affable 
hand  which  she  extended,  and  the  necessity  of  speaking 
words  of  salutation,  than  by  the  unaided  effect  of  her 
visible  presence. 

Mrs.  Mansion  was  the  most  impressive  woman  he  had 
ever  seen.  Not  that  she  was  haughty,  not  that  she  was 
queenly  in  her  carriage.  She  was  in  no  wise  the  first,  — 
she  was  perfectly  the  last  of  these;  but  her  beauty  had 
a  powerful  sympathetic  quality,  which  gained  little  help 
from  mere  superior  bearing.  She  met  Mr.  Moddle  with 
the  respect  of  a  hostess  and  a  lady,  but  she  met  him  as  if 


I2O  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

she  had  known  him  always.  There  was  flattery  to  him  in 
this  appearance  of  having  needed  no  introduction;  there 
was  captivity  for  him  in  that  clear  direct  way  with  which 
she  looked  into  his  eyes.  The  young  man  felt  as  if  he 
were  altogether  comprehended,  and  blushed  as  he  had 
not  since  he  rose  to  read  his  maiden  sermon.  The  lady's 
personnel  was  of  the  most  sumptuous  blonde  type.  Her 
figure  and  face  were  those  of  perfected  womanhood,  — 
the  contours  all  roundly  moulded,  the  expressions  all 
speaking  of  the  fulness  of  life.  Her  hand  and  the  arm 
which  shone  through  the  gossamer  sleeve  of  her  dress 
were  delights  of  whiteness,  rich  curve,  and  dimple.  Her 
eyes  were  large  and  of  a  reddish-hazel,  and  her  hair  a 
golden  also  touched  with  red.  When  her  lips  spoke,  her 
face  was  expressive  of  infinite  changes,  and  played  per- 
fect accompaniment  to  every  tone  of  a  wonderfully  sweet, 
low  voice. 

Mr.  Moddle  heard  her,  saw  her,  and  quite  forgot  what 
he  w*as  going  to  say.  There  was  really  no  need  of  his 
saying  anything,  for  the  involuntary  silence  of  youth  is 
the  highest  compliment  which  can  be  paid  to  a  superb 
woman;  and,  moreover,  whatever  was  to  be  said,  Mr. 
Mansion  was  quite  ready  to  say  for  him. 

"  So,"  he  rattled  on,  "  you'll  stay  to  dinner  with  us,  — 
that's  right.  By  the  way,  Pryng  and  Carmine  are  both 
here  now,  directors  in  this  Konkus  business.  They're 
both  members  of  St.  Simon's, — Pryng's  a  warden.  I'll 
ask  them  to  dinner,  too.  Board  will  rise  about  eight. 
Sorry  to  keep  you  so  long,  Jane." 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  121 

••  I  f  s  of  no  consequence  to  me,  dear,  if  Mr.  Moddle  can, 
excuse  the  condition  the  soup  will  be  in  by  that  time." 

"  Pray,  madam,  don't  speak  of  it,"  said  Mr.  Moddle, 
wondering  if  she  knew  how  often  they  had  any  soup  at 
all  in  the  seminary  refectory,  and  how.  easy  it  would 
be  for  Mr.  Moddle's  utmost  idea  of  a  Sybarite  to  eat 
kale-brosc  in  company  with  such  a  woman. 

"  Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Mansion,  "  I'll  return  to  the 
board.  Expect  Pryng  and  Carmine,  then,  Jane.  Want 
them  to  see  Mr.  Moddle.  They  want  to  see  him  them- 
selves, I  know.  Mr.  Moddle,  I'll  leave  you  in  charge  of 
Mrs.  Mansion  for  an  hour.  Show  him  the  new  Gerome, 
my  dear." 

After  Mr.  Mansion  had  gone,  Mr.  Moddle  told  Mrs. 
Mansion  that  he  was  glad  to  have  discovered  the  source 
of  so  much  happiness  as  he  had  received  from  her  music 

••  And  were  }-ou  there  all  the  time  ?  "  asked  the  lady, 
with  the  same  direct  look  as  had  first  met  him,  followed 
by  a  down-glance  of  shyness. 

"  I  must  ask  your  pardon  for  that  intrusion  upon  your 
privacy." 

"  Oh,  I  was  only  playing  to  amuse  myself,  and  if  I 
made  any  one  else  happier,  so  much  gained.  Especially 
some  one  to  whom  I  owe  a  debt  of  the  same  kind.  I 
have  heard  you  preach." 

Mr.  Moddle  blushed  again.  He  had  become  inured 
to  compliments  from  doctors  of  divinity,—  but  this  was 
quite  another  thing. 

"  I  supposed  St.  Simon's  would  invite  you.      I  was 


122  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

glad  to  hear  you  had  been  invited.  I  am  still  gladder 
to  find  that  you  have  accepted.  You'll  find  everything  in 
your  favor,  I'm  sure  "  — 

Again  Mr.  Moddle  rapidly  bethought  himself  how  he 
should  express  the  fact  of  his  acceptance  still  being  a 
matter  of  consultation;  but  the  murmur  of  that  sweet 
voice  had  a  rhythm  which  he  could  not  break  by  saying 
only  such  awkward  things  as  immediately  occurred  to 
him. 

"  Many  of  our  principal  people  have  heard  you,"  con- 
tinued Mrs.  Mansion,  "  and  the  impression  is  universally 
a  pleasant  one.  The  Sunday  you  preached  at  Grace, 
I  was  only  sorry  Simpson  had  a  cold,  for  the  best' 
music  of  the  pulpit  always  seems  to  call  for  the  best 
in  the  choir.  "We  have  a  very  good  choir  at  St.  Si- 
mon's." 

"  Do  you  sing  as  well  as  play  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Moddle. 

"  Just  about  as  well,  however  that  may  be.  I  love 
music.  It  is  life  and  air  and  home  and  friends  to  me, 
and  often  it  appears  religion  to  me,  too.  Do  you  ever 
feel  so,  Mr.  Moddle  ?  " 

"  It  is,  in  a  sense,"  replied  Mr.  Moddle. 

"  And  you  love  it,  I  am  sure  !  " 

"  I  do." 

"  "We  shall  get  on  well  together,"  said  Mrs.  Mansion. 
"  Do  you  sing  ?  " 

"  I  have  an  uncultivated  tenor  voice.  May  I  hear  you 
sing  ?  " 

"  I  think  we  have  time  for  a  duet."    She  looked  at  the 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  123 

ormolu  clock  on  the  mantel-piece,  then  went  to  the  door 
and  listened. 

"Yes,  it's  only  half-past  seven,  and  upstairs  they 
.sound  as  busily  engaged  as  ever.  I'm  glad  you're  coming 
to  be  their  rector,  Mr.  Moddle.  These  men  do  nothing 
no\v-a-days  but  stupefy  their  souls  with  business.  A  man 
of  artistic,  devotional  tastes  is  necessary  for  their  salva- 
tion. It's  positively  soothing  to  think  of  such  an  one." 
And  again  she  looked  him  in  the  eyes  with  enthusiastic 
directness.  "  What  shall  we  sing  ?  "  she  continued,  go- 
ing, toward  the  piano. 

Mr.  Moddle  rose  and  followed  her. 

"  Indeed,"  said  he,  "  you  must  remember  I  have  never 
made  music  a  scientific  study.  The  utmost  I'm  ade- 
quate to  is  some  simple  song  of  Abt  or  Mendelssohn." 

"  Then  you  certainly  know  '  I  would  that  my  love  ?  ' 
and  here  it  is." 

He  was  unable  to  deny  that  he  had  sung  his  part  of 
the  duet.  His  voice,  though  untrained,  had  been  much 
praised,  and  was  in  good  condition.  That  Mrs.  Mansion 
had  found  that  out,  —  rather,  seemed  to  know  it  intui- 
tively,—  was  a  pleasant  and  stimulating  fact.  He  stood 
by  her  side  with  a  feeling  of  conscious  ability  to  do  his 
best;  and  us  she  began  the  first  sweet  movement,  his 
voice  underran  and  blended  in  with  hers  directly.  Hers 
was  a  deliciously  rich,  sympathetic,  and  flexible  mezzo- 
soprano,  cultivated  after  Garcia's  school,  till  every  note 
of  it  was  automatically  true,  and  entirely  at  her  call. 
Mr.  Moddle  could  not  but  know  that  such  a  voice  was 


124  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

superior  to  his  own ;  still  she  took  away  from  him  all 
possibility  of  feeling  it  by  flowing  into  all  his  deficiencies 
and  draping  all  his  angles,  —  holding  or  accelerating  for 
him  with  such  ease,  and  everywhere  chording  with  him  so 
perfectly,  that  in  a  flush  of  happy  pride  he  wondered 
how  he  had  never  sung  so  before,  seeming  to  hear  but 
one  voice,  and  that  a  magnificent  one. 

"  They  are  coming  downstairs,"  said  Mrs.  Mansion, 
rising  and  shutting  the  piano  upon  the  dying  chords  of 
the  duet.  "  You've  really  a  very  fine  tenor  !  I  wish 
we  could  sing  more." 

There  was  a  noise  of  good-evenings  and  walking-sticks 
in  the  hall ;  presently  the  front-door  was  slammed  shut, 
and  then  the  parlor-door  opened,  letting  in  Messrs.  Man- 
sion, Carmine,  and  Pryng.  As  they  entered,  Mrs.  Man- 
sion rang  to  have  dinner  served,  and  it  was  announced 
before  the  introductions  were  concluded.  Though  the 
other  guests  were  his  decided  seniors,  Mr.  Moddle 
was  selected  to  hand  his  hostess  down.  Though  the 
honor  and  the  soft  white  arm  which  accompanied  it"  were 
very  pleasant  to  Mr.  Moddle,  he  had  an  under-sense  that 
they  belonged  to  the  already  consenting  rector  of  St. 
Simon's  —  and  was  he  that  ?  It  must  be  confessed  that 
such  questions  are  very  mal  apropos  on  a  staircase, 
with  a  fine  woman  at  your  side,  her  dress  not  to  get 
under  your  feet,  and  dinner,  with  its  banishment  of  dis- 
putable subjects,  close  imminent.  So  Mr.  Moddle  led 
the  way  with  his  hostess,  and  only  remarked  to  her  upon 
the  beauty  of  her  bouquet  de  corsage. 


Fleeing  to    Tar  skis  h.  125 

u  Did  you  notice  it  ?  "  asked  Mrs.  Mansion,  looking 
over  her  shoulder  at  the  young  man,  her  lips  parting 
with  a  gratified  smile,  which  made  her  quite  radiant.  "  I 
am  fond  of  wearing  flowers;  but  dear  me,"  —  and  she 
tossed  her  head  slightly  backward  toward  the  solid  busi- 
ness men,  —  "  Mr.  Mansion  would  never  know  whether  I 
had  a  japonica  or  a  bavardia  here."  She  put  her  dim- 
pled hand  on  her  bouquet  as  she  spoke,  and  plucking  out 
a  little  sprig  of  heliotrope,  arranged  it  in  his  button-hole, 
asking,  as  they  entered  the  dining-room,  — 

"  Is  it  ministerial  though,  to  wear  flowers  ?  " 

"  I  believe  there  are  strictarians,"  replied  Mr.  Mod- 
die,  "  who  think  it  too  gay." 

"  Well,  this  heliotrope  should  surely  be  allowed  you ; 
you  know  what  it  means  ?  " 

And  once  more  her  beautiful  direct  eyes  looked  in  his. 
Mr.  Moddle  recollected  reading  in  his  sister's  copy  of 
"The  Language  of  Flowers,"  that  it  meant  "Devo- 
tion ;  "  and,  although  in  that  exercise  there  was  nothing 
for  a  clergyman  to  be  ashamed  of,  blushed  again. 

Mr.  Pryng  was  a  dignified  man,  who  affected  the  vo- 
luminous white  cravats  of  the  Kegency,  had  a  gener- 
ous red  nose,  spoke  with  a  husk}'  solemnity,  and,  but 
for  the  large  diamond  solitaire  set  in  his  snowy  frill, 
might  have  pardoned  anybody  who  mistook  him  lor  a 
butler  with  a  bad  influenza.  Mr.  Carmine  was  a  pale, 
scholarly  person,  with  long  white  fingers,  and  no  beard 
but  a  mustache.  Xothing  of  the  successful  business 
man  about  him  but  the  strong  perpendicular  wrinkle 


126  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

between  the  cool  gray  eyes,  and  with  a  general  look  of 
being  accustomed  to  spend  his  up-town  hours  in  a  li- 
brary, getting  up  costly  monographs  on  the  Probable 
Locality  of  the  first  New  York  Pump,  or  preparing 
speeches  on  the  Distinguished  Unheard-of,  for  the  His- 
torical Society.  Mr.  Mansion  was,  as  we  have  seen, 
what  the  world  calls  a  driving  man,  —  never  late, — 
never  with  a  minute  to  spare  ;  and,  like  most  people 
who  travel  on  high  steam,  compactly  built,  somewhat 
below  the  medium  size.  His  large  aquiline  nose  and 
his  sandy  gigot  whiskers  resembled  him  a  little  to  the 
traditional  British  type  of  the  East  India  Major;  but 
the  moment  he  opened  his  mouth  there  was  no  con- 
founding his  individuality,  —  he  was  the  American  Busi- 
ness Man  raised  to  the  highest  power. 

Each  of  these  men,  after  his  manner,  paid  flattering 
deference  to  Mr.  Moddle.  Speaking  of  the  past  as  if 
he  were  already  in  it  and  had  merely  poked  his  head 
over  his  neck-cloth  as  over  some  grand  chronological 
hedge  to  watch  the  present  age  degenerate,  Mr.  Pryng 
compared  Mr.  Moddle  to  the  lamented  Bunscough,  who 
electrified  St.  Tabitha  with  his  eloquence  when  she  used 
to.  worship  down-town,  —  "  when  your  father  was  a  boy, 
sir,"  said  Mr.  Pryng,  regarding  with  compassion  a  young 
man  whose  misfortune  had  detained  him  from  the  world 
until  it  had  passed  the  height  of  its  season,  like  straw- 
berries after  the  Fourth. 

"  Dr.  Lumper's  library  is  to  be  sold,  I  hear,"  said  Mr. 
Carmine.  "  It  ought  to  go  with  the  rectory.  Said  to 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  127 

be  the  finest  critical  and  exegetical  collection  belonging 
to  any  theologian  in  New  York." 

"  Bless  rne,  you  don't  say  so  ! "  exclaimed  Mr.  Man- 
sion, with  all  the  more  enthusiasm  that  he  was  strug- 
gling to  acquire  some  conception  what  manner  of  thing 
this  might  be. 

"  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  it  were  so,"  replied  Mr.  Car- 
mine. 

"  Great  man,  Lumper,"  said  Mr.  Pryng,  solemnly; 
"  always  reminded  me  of  the  elder  Puddon." 

"  Did  you  ever  see  your  predecessor's  library,  Mr. 
Moddle  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Carmine.  "  Up  to  the  time  we 
lost  him  —  h'm,  that's  —  a  year  ago  this  June, — people 
came  from  far  and  near  to  consult  authorities  in  St.  Si- 
mon's rectory." 

"  And  a  good  old  man  he  was,"  said  Mrs.  Mansion, 
—  "  John,  pass  the  spinach  to  Mr.  Moddle,  —  only  he 
stayed  too  much  in  that  same  library.  A  shepherd  ought 
to  be  more  with  the  lambs.  But  I've  kept  Mr.  Car- 
mine waiting  for  his  answer.  Did  you  ever  see  the 
library  ?  " 

"  I  called  once  on  the  doctor  when  I  first  thought  of 
taking  orders.  My  eye,  untutored  as  it  then  was,  could 
see  that  the  library  must  be  very  valuable;  but  of  course 
I  had  no  chance  to  examine  it." 

"  No;  I  remember  you  only  stayed  a  few  minutes." 

Hearing  Mrs.  Mansion  say  this,  Mr.  Moddle  looked 
up  at  her  in  astonishment. 


I2S  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

"  How  do  I  know  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Mansion.  "  Ask  me 
sometime  ! " 

"You  say  it's  to  be  sold?"  spoke  Mr.  Mansion; 
"  and  it  ought  to  be  bought  for  the  rectory." 

" En  permanence"  gravely  added  Mr.  Pryng,  who 
had  been  consul  to  Nantes  under  one  of  the  Adamses. 

"  I'll  give  a  thousand,"  said  Mr.  Mansion. 

"  So  will  I,"  said  Mr.  Carmine. 

"  And  I,"  added  Mr.  Pryng. 

"  Three  thousand  already  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mansion, 
with  a  smile,  which  to  Mr.  Moddle  seemed  abundantly 
worth  that  amount.  "  Now,  what  shall  poor  I  do  ?  I 
see,  —  I'll  get  up  a  fair." 

The  three  elderly  men  for  a  moment  looked  queer. 
Perhaps  they  were  thinking  whose  bank-account  would 
be  drawn  on  for  the  wool  which  went  into  the  af- 
ghans,  and  the  springs  which  gave  elasticity  to  the  prie- 
diewx. 

"  Jane  is  doing  more  than  any  of  us ;  that's  at  least 
two  thousand  more,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Mansion. 

"Now  for  Mr.  Moddle;  what  will  you  give,  sir?" 
asked  Mrs.  Mansion,  smiling  straight  into  the  young 
man's  eyes. 

What  would  you  or  I  have  done  ?  "Was  this  any 
time  to  be  talking  about  the  uncertainty  of  Mr.  Moddle's 
relations  with  St.  Simon's  ? 

"  I  will  preach  a  sermon  upon  Clerical  Libraries,"  an- 
swered Mr.  Moddle,  under  inspiration  of  irresistible 
enthusiasm  ;  "  announcing  that  a  collection  will  be  taken 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  129 

np  to  swell  your  private  contributions  and  the  proceeds 
of  the  fair." 

'•  A  very  original  and  well-chosen  subject,  too,"  said 
Mr.  Carmine. 

"  It  quite  revives  my  recollections  of  the  elder  Bel- 
lamy," said  Mr.  Pryng;  "though  his  wife's  grandfather, 
the  celebrated  Carter,  was  even  more  striking  in  his 
selection  of  strong  themes." 

"I  think  we  may  s'afely  call  that  fifteen  hundred 
more,"  said  Mr.  Mansion. 

"  Why,  you  come  next  to  me  on  the  contributors' 
list,"  said  Mrs.  Mansion. 

"That  position  is  everywhere  a  happiness  and  an 
honor,  madam,"  answered  Mr.  Moddle,  —  the  sustained 
inspiration  carrying  him  into  a  courtliness  which  sur- 
prised him. 

Dessert  over,  and  nothing  but  the  nuts  and  sherry 
left  upon  the  table,  Mrs.  Mansion  told  the  gentlemen 
that  she  knew  they  must  want  their  cigars,  and  that, 
when  they  had  enjoyed  them,  they  would  find  her  in 
the  drawing-room.  As  she  went  out,  she  bowed  ulay- 
fully  toward  all  the  table. 

"  I  don't  smoke,"  said  Mr.  Moddle.  "  So,  if  you'll  ex- 
cuse me,  I  believe  I'll  follow  Mrs.  Mansion." 

"The  father  of  the  present  venerable  Dr.  Canaster 
always  regarded  smoking  as  decidedly  injurious  to  the 
polemic  faculties,"  said  Mr.  Pryng,  with  the  air  of 
handing  down  to  Mr.  Moddle  the  approval  of  ancient 
times. 


130  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

Mr.  Moddle  found  in  the  drawing-room  abundance  to 
compensate  him  for  the  unappreciated  luxury  of  a  Ca- 
bana. There  were  pictures  to  be  looked  at  and  a  lovely 
woman  to  be  sung  with  or  talked  to.  There  was  a 
question  to  be  asked,  and  Mr.  Moddle's  curiosity  was 
too  great  long  to  delay  it. 

"  Oh,  by  the  way,"  said  Mr.  Moddle,  in  a  momentary 
pause  ensuing  upon  his  praise  of  a  delicious  little  sere- 
nade, —  the  "  Riez  !  Chantez  !  Dormez  !  "  of  Gounod,  —  "  by 
the  way,  you  told  me  to  remind  you  of  something.  How 
did  you  become  aware  of  my  being  in  Dr.  Lumper's 
library  ?  " 

"  The  door  between  the  library  and  the  parlor  was 
left  open  on  a  crack,  and  a  ladies'  sewing-society  met 
that  afternoon  at  the  rectory.  I  sat  just  opposite  the 
crack,  and  saw  you  all  the  time  you  were  talking  with 
the  doctor,  —  saw  and  heard  you  both." 

"  And  do  you  remember  anything  we  said  ?  " 

"I  remember  that  he  was  very  brusque  with  reference 
to  some  convictions  of  yours,  —  inexcusably  harsh,  con- 
sidering he  had  to  do  with  a  young  convert." 

"My  views  in  favor  of  a  more  splendid  ritual,  you 
mean  ?  " 

"  Did  you  not  rather  abruptly  close  the  interview  on 
that  account  ?  " 

"  Really,  your  memory  is  astonishing  !  " 

"  It  serves  me  pretty  infallibly  as  a  keeper  of  things 
and  people  I  like.  I  casually  asked  Dr.  Lumper  the 
name  of  the  gentleman  who  had  been  in  his  study;  and 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  131 

I  gained  a  pleasure,  when  I  heard  whom  our  people 
had  invited,  by  not  having  forgotten  it.  I  agree  very 
strongly  with  you,  Mr*.  Moddle." 

As  she  said  this,  she  frankly  put  out  her  hand.  Mr. 
Moddle  pressed  it  with  apostolic  fervor.  Mrs.  Mansion 
continued,  — 

"  You  mustn't '  expect  much  sympathy  from  Mr. 
Mansion.  Neither  he  nor  Mr.  Carmine  nor  Mr.  Pryng 
are  of  our  way  of  thinking;  though  that's  of  little  con- 
sequence. Mr.  Pryng  is  what  you've  seen  for  yourself, 
—  one  of  those  men  that  knew  your  great-grandfather 
intimately,  and  are  sorry  to  find  you  so  little  like  him. 
Mr.  Carmine  is  a  philosopher,  and,  I  suppose,  patronizes 
religion  very  much  as  a  liberal-minded  baker  would  be 
friendly  with  a  candy-man.  They  are  both  generous 
men;  so  is  Mr.  Mansion.  The  fundamental  lack  with 
all  of  them  is  sentiment,  —  devotion,  you  know.  I'm 
speaking  plainly;  but,  if  I  discuss  those  I  know  so 
well  to  —  perhaps  I  ought  to  say  —  a  comparative 
stranger  "  — 

"  Oh,  no  !  "  said  Mr.  Moddle,  giving  a  warmer  grasp 
to  the  frank  hand  still  retained  in  his  own. 

"  It's  only  because  I  want  our  new  rector  to  succeed 
in  every  respect.  There  are  plenty  who  do  agree  with 
you.  With  discretion,  we  can  all  help  each  other.  So 
forgive  an  officious  whisper  from  behind  the  scenes. 
Shall  we  go  to  look  at  the  conservatory  ?  " 

Mr.  Moddle  loved  flowers,  and  cheerfully  followed  his 
hostess  into  a  fine  greenhouse,  extending  the  entire. 


13-  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

width  of  the  house  and  to  the  height  of  the  second 
story.  Here,  where  au  exiled  banana  found  room  to 
sprawl  its  enormous  palms,  ani  oranges  sighed  per- 
fumed longings  for  their  native  tropics,  beneath  a  crown 
of  gas-jet  brilliants  which  hung  close  to  a  dome  of 
stained  glass,  they  paused  to  pick  mignonette  and  look 
at  the  newest  marvel  in  petunias.  Not  far  from  them 
were  the  windows  of  the  dining-room,  which  opened  on 
a  level  into  the  conservatory.  One  of  the  windows  was 
slightly  ajar;  and,  as  Mrs.  Mansion  was  pointing  out  to 
Mr.  Moddle  the  marvellous  achievement  of  her  gar- 
dener in  producing  a  petunia  with  one  red  and  two 
mauve  spots  instead  of  two  red  and  one  mauve,  like  the 
last  one,  both  the  lady  and  the  minister  had  their  at- 
tention irresistibly  called  to  the  fact  that  the  gentlemen 
were  not  yet  through  with  their  cigars.  If  the  smoke 
of  well-flavored  Havanas  had  not  betrayed  them,  their 
voices  would. 

As  Mr.  Pryng  helped  himself  to  a  final  glass  of 
sherry,  he  observed  that  he  was  glad  to  see  Mr.  Moddle 
a  young  man  of  such  vigorously-correct  habits,  and 
something  in  his  manner, — he  had  been  puzzling  over 
the  likeness  and  only  just  identified  it,  —  which  recalled 
that  eminently  holy  man,  the  late  Mokes. 

"  A  man  of  very  fine,  scholarly  tastes,  too,"  said  Mr. 
Carmine,  "  which  Mokes  had  not." 

"No,  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Pryng;  "but  Mokes  had 
foundation." 

"  "Which  I  think  our  new  rector  also  has,"  added  Mr. 


Wcchig  to   Tarshish.  133 

Mansion.  "  There  was  considerable  good  sense  in  the 
prompt  way  he  took  up  the  glove  and  proposed  to 
preach  a  sermon.  We're  well  suited,  and  I'm  glad  of 
it." 

"When  Mr.  Moddle  caught  the  first  words  of  this  con- 
versation, he  made  a  natural,  involuntary  movement  to 
avoid  intrusion  on  the  right  of  private  interpretation  as 
directed  at  himself;  but  the  lady  smiled,  put  her  finger 
to  her  lip,  and  laid  a  hand  detainingly  upon  his  lapel. 
Thus  was  he  compelled  to  hear  his  own  praises  through. 

"You  know,"  i-aid  Mrs.  Mansion,  laughingly,  as  she 
led  him  away  from  the  window,  "that  it  was  no 
fault  of  yours.  You  couldn't  help  obeying  your  host- 
ess, and  you're  not  responsible  for  eavesdropping.  I 
couldn't  resist  making  you  aware  how  well  they  think 
of  you." 

The  gentlemen  now  gave  signs  of  rising,  and  Mr. 
Moddle  went  back  with  Mrs.  Mansion  to  meet  them  in 
the  drawing-room.  "We  need  not  linger  with  them. 
Their  after-dinner  conversation  was  no  more  instructive 
than  the  average  of  mankind's,  and  when  Mr.  Pryng  and 
Mr.  Carmine  had  wished  Mr.  Moddle  a  good-evening,  he 
recollected  that  he  was  to  be  at  Chavvsuble's  aunt's  by 
nine  o'clock,  and  stood  up  to  take  leave  of  his  hosts. 
Each  gave  him  a  hand  and  accompanied  him  to  the  door. 
As  he  was  about  going  out  he  suddenly  bethought  him- 
self. 

"  Oh  !  "  said  he,  "  I  meant  to  talk  over  with  you  the 
question  of  that  acceptance." 


134  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

"  It's  of  no  consequence  in  the  world. .  Sproull's  office 
is  right  across  from  me  in  Wall  street,  and  I'll  give  it  to 
him  verbally  to-morrow." 

"  But,"  —  began  Mr.  Moddle. 

"  Hey  !  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Mansion,  in  a  loud  voice. 
This  ejaculation  was  addressed  to  a  driver  of  the  Fifth 
avenue  line,  whose  lamps  were  just  coming  abreast  the 
house.  "  Excuse  me  for  seeming  to  hurry  you  off,"  con- 
tinued he  to  Mr.  Moddle;  "but  if  you've  to  be  at  Forty- 
fifth  street  by  nine  o'clock  there's  your  stage." 

"  Well,  good-night,"  replied  Mr.  Moddle,  converting 
a  momentary  pause  of  irresolution  into  a  hurried  plunge 
down  the  steps. 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  135 


II 


AT  Chawsuble's  aunt's,  Mr.  Moddle  was  apportioned 
a  room  with  her  nephew,  and  kept  that  young  gentle- 
man awake  half  the  night  with  the  light  in  his  eyes,  — 
a  grievance  all  the  more  galling  because  he  had  just 
come  home  from  the  pretty  girl's,  fully  determined  to 
dream  about  her.  When  at  last  Chawsuble  got  as  im- 
patient as  can  be  permitted  to  a  divine,  Mr.  Moddle 
turned  off  the  bracket,  and  lay  down  by  his  friend's  side, 
but  not  to  sleep  till  the  sparrows  were  twittering  in  the 
silver  of  first  dawn. 

He  was  kept  waking,  not  by  light,  like  Chawsuble,  but 
by  that  contest  of  mixed  motives  which  is  like  a  clash 
and  alternation  of  light  with  darkness.  Oh  that,  as  in 
old  times,  God  but  once  spoke  audibly  !  He  forgot  that 
when  he  did,  the  people  said  it  thundered,  —  that  even 
Samuel  thought  it  was  Eli,  and  Balaam  was  indisposed 
to  obey  it  at  all.  Oh  for  some  one  to  show  the  right 
way  ! 

Before  him  passed  and  repassed  the  imagined  form  of 
rough  old  Binks,  working  away  with  his  best  shoulder 
under  the  Lord's  "  charriat  weel "  at  Muddy  Creek,  and 


136  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

never  abandoning  his  confidence  of  some  day  getting  at 
least  a  corduroy  to  heaven  through  that  "  slew,"  though 
the  only  neighbors  he  had  to  call  on  either  were  game- 
sters, sots,  and  bullies,  or  lived  twenty  miles  away  from 
the  court-house,  whose  loneliness,  according  to  the  Kev. 
Joseph  Bowers,  they  were  inadequate  to  remedy. 

Then  his  thoughts  floated  away  into  a  bland  twilight, 
where  zephyrs  were  fainting  with  music  and  perfume; 
he  heard  his  own  name  spoken  with  admiration  by  the 
admirable;  beauty  and  success  ministered  to  him,  and 
he  sat  in  a  grand  gloom  of  old  books  and  carved  walnut. 
IsTor  were  his  fancies  of  a  mere  religious  sybarite;  he 
saw  the  dim  yet  many-tinted  aisles  of  St.  Simon's 
streaming  with  hearers,  drawn  by  his  solemn  reading 
and  his  persuasive  speech;  saw  his  parish  children  gath- 
ered in  bright  attire  round  him  and  their  Christmas- 
tree,  and  heard  the  low,  reverent  breathing  of  communi- 
cants to  whom  his  hand  should  seem  bringing  bread 
from  heaven.  He  thought  of  the  poor,  for  whose  sake 
he  should  be  an  organizing  centre  to  all  sewing-societies, 
fairs,  and  Protestant  Sisters  of  Mercy. 

And  by  which  of  these  pictures  was  he  most  allured  ? 
By  which  ought  he  to  be  ?  If  it  was  his  duty  to  refuse 
St.  Simon's,  how  should  he  explain  his  silence  upon  that 
point  at  Mr.  Mansion's  ?  In  this  state  of  feverish  un- 
certainty, he  fell  asleep  with  the  birds'  waking.  Chaw- 
suble,  being  of  a  forgiving  disposition,  would  not  allow 
him  to  be  called  to  breakfast.  Accordingly,  he  slept  till 
one  o'clock,  coming  down  to  lunch  with  many  excuses 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  137 

for  his  laziness.  After  the  meal  was  over,  he  started 
for  a  walk  down-town,  to  look  in  at  the  book-stores,  and 
call  on  Mr.  Sproull  or  Mr.  Mansion,  if  possible,  with  ref- 
erence to  the  continued  uncertainty  of  his  mind  toward 
St.  Simon's. 

If  possible  !  Wherever  he  dropped  in,  there  were  so 
many  new  and  interesting  things  to  look  over,  pub- 
lished since  his  last  visit  to  town,  that,  by  the  time  he 
reached  Liberty  street,  the  boys  were  crying  "  Evening 
Post  I  Third  'shun  ! "  He  bought  a  copy,  and  began 
glancing  at  it  as  he  continued  down  Broadway.  The 
third  column  on  the  first  page  was  one  of  religious  in- 
telligence, and  one  of  the  first  paragraphs  that  there 
met  his  eye  was  the  following:  — 

"  It  is  now  definitely  understood  that  the  Church  of 
St.  Simon  Stylites,  whose  pulpit  has  for  a  year  been  left 
vacant  by  the  death  of  the  venerable  Dr.  Lumper,  will 
shortly  receive,  as  its  rector,  Rev.  Jonas  Moddle,  a  re- 
cent graduate  of  the  Seminary  of  Saint  Elyrnas,  whose 
abilities  are  very  highly  spoken  of." 

The  effect  of  such  a  thing  upon  a  man  who  had  never 
seen  his  name  in  print  was  like  a  judge's  sentence.  Peo- 
ple, whose  names  have  often  been  treated  by  the  press 
with  hyperbole  both  of  scurrilous  and  laudatory  com- 
ment, can  probably  form  no  idea  of  the  decisive  char- 
acter which  a  newspaper  reference  bears  to  the  youthful 
and  uncalloused  mind.  There  was  no  philosophizing 
past  it.  The  die  was  cast.  Mr.  Moddle  belonged  to  St. 
Simon's.  As  a  reaction  from  the  first  thrill  of  astonish- 
9* 


138  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

merit  at  the  Post's  notice,  came  to  Mr.  Moddle  a  feeling 
of  strange  peace. 

"It  has  been  settled  for  me  providentially,"  mused 
Mr.  Moddle.  "  I  am  glad  I  was  not  left  to  my  own  err- 
ing judgment.  No  doubt  the  Lord  has  seen  a  worthier 
man  for  the  post  of  conflict  and  honor  at  Muddy  Creek. 
I  ought  to  be  very  humble  when  I  think  of  it." 

In  this  frame  of  devotion,  humility,  and  calmness,  Mr. 
Moddle  retraced  his  steps  to  Mr.  Chawsuble's  aunt's. 
Both  aunt  and  nephew  had  also  read  the  Post,  and  their 
congratulations  so  overpowered  him  that  he  was  forced 
to  retire  upstairs,  and  compose  himself  by  writing  let- 
ters; among  others,  the  declinatory  one  to  Binks.  This 
last  was  a  long  one,  full  of  the  tenderest  sympathy, 
merely  stating  that  he  had  already  accepted  the  rector- 
ship of  St.  Simon's,  and  closing  with  an  earnest  invita- 
tion to  call  on  him,  should  Mr.  Binks  ever  come  to  New 
York.  As  he  was  sealing  the  letter,  Chawsuble  came 
running  up  to  ask  whether  Mr.  Moddle  was  going  back 
to  the  seminary  with  him  on  that  evening's  train,  or 
would  stay  down  longer  ?  In  the  latter  case,  Mr.  Chaw- 
suble's aunt  would  gladly  continue  to  entertain  him;  in 
the  former,  Mr.  Chawsuble  would  suggest  that  he  pack 
his  valise  at  once. 

"  I  don't  think — I  don't  know  —  Chawsuble,  I  believe 
that  if  you'll  see  to  having  the  janitor  pack  my  things, 
express  my  books  and  clothes,  and  sell  my  furniture,  I 
wont  go  back  to  St.  Elymas  at  all,  till  after  I'm  insti- 
tuted. I  hate  good-by's;  so,  say  them  you;  it  doesn't 


.Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  139 

give  the  same  pang  to  a  proxy.  I'll  pay  a  visit  there 
after  I  get  well  started  in  St.  Simon's." 

"Well,  then,  I'll  attend  to  the  things  for  you;  but 
you'll  leave  a  hole  at  St.  Elymas,  —  every body'll  feel 
sorry.  Good-by,  if  you're  sure  you  wont  come  along." 

"  Good-by,  Chawsuble ;  write  me  in  a  day  or  two." 

The  next  day  Mr.  Sproull  called  on  him,  and  took  him 
over  to  a  suite  of  rooms,  which  had  been  specially  fitted 
up  for  him.  "  The  rest  of  the  house  is  all  renovated  ex- 
cept paper,  polish,  and  fresco,"  said  Mr.  Sproull ;  "  so 
you  wont  be  disturbed  in  your  study  by  any  din  of  saws 
and  hammers.  Dr.  Lumper's  old  housekeeper  has  been 
living  here  to  keep  the  place;  she  used  to  be  called  a 
good  plain  cook;  she'll  take  your  orders,  and,  if  you 
don't  like  her  cuisine,  why  Delmonico's  is  handy.  I  be- 
lieve she  has  a  daughter  to  wait;  but,  if  not,  my  wife 
will  select  a  good  housemaid  at  the  intelligence-office." 

Mr.  Moddle  answered  that  his  tastes  were  simple  and 
easily  gratified.  Mr.  Sproull  told  him  that  the  institu- 
tion ceremony,  if  he  were  willing,  could  take  place  early 
the  following  week,  shook  hands  with  him,  and  left  him 
to  examine  his  rooms.  They  were  furnished  with  crit- 
ical elegance  and  extreme  luxury  of  form  and  color. 
What  most  immediately  possessed  his  eye  was  a  little 
altar  of  pure  white  marble,  occupying  the  corner  next 
his  bed,  surmounted  by  a  richly  carved  cross  of  gold 
and  ivory,  with  a  long  wax  taper  in  Sevres  candlestick 
on  either  side, —  a  vase  of  flowers,  and  gorgeous  priedieu 
and  altar-cloth  of  scarlet  embroidered  with  heliotropes, 


140  Fleeing  to  Tarshtsk. 

completing  its  accessories.  Attached  to  the  fresh-cut 
roses  in  the  vase  was  a  card,  on  which  a  woman's  pen 
had  written  these  words  only,  "  To  my  minister."  But 
the  heliotropes  showed  Mr.  Moddle,  even  better  than  the 
roses,  whose  hand  had  placed  the  altar  and  laid  the 
offering  on  it. 

The  institution  ceremony  was  a  brilliant  success.  So 
were  the  library  sermon  and  the  fair.  The  sermon 
awakened  such  a  flood  of  recollections  in  Mr.  Pryng's 
mind  that,  wherever  he  went  for  a  week  afterward,  it 
resembled  general  clearing-up  day  in  a  catacomb, 
whereat  bystanders  were  choked  by  the  mummy-dust  of 
all  such  greatness  as  has  been  embalmed  since  the  day 
of  Jeremy  Taylor.  Mrs.  Mansion's  fair,  —  with  beauti- 
ful millionairesses  for  bait,  on  a  back-ground  of  parti- 
colored canopy,  —  was  a  trap  which  sprung  itself  on 
many  opulent  middle-aged  gentlemen  of  well-pre- 
served susceptibilities,  —  never  letting  them  off  short 
of  a  ten-dollar  pen-wiper  or  a  hundred-dollar  nightcap, 
and,  in  the  aggregate,  closing  on  nearly  a  thousand 
more  than  the  charming  vestry-woman  had  promised. 

The  auction  was  over,  and  St.  Simon's  had  been  the 
successful  bidder  for  the  library.  Mr.  Moddle  was  re- 
arranging it  the  day  after,  according  to  his  own  private 
plan  of  reading,  when  the  house-keeper  came  to  tell  him 
that  an  express-box  was  waiting  for  him  in  the  hall. 
It  proved  to  be  his  St.  Elymas  books,  forwarded  to  him 
by  Chawsuble.  After  opening  them  and  carrying  a  few 
armfuls  into  the  library,  he  came  to  the  family  Bible 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  141 

which  used  to  lie  on  his  St.  Elymas  centre-table.  His 
face  flushed  with  pleasure  at  the  return  of  his  old  friend. 

•'Oh,''  he  thought,  "if  I  had  only  had  you  in  Chawsu- 
ble's  room  the  night  of  that  struggle,  best  book,  I  be- 
lieve I  should  have  made  an  oracle  of  you,  as  in  .the 
man}*  past  days  when  I  have  consulted  the  Sortes  Bib- 
licael" 

He  sat  down  in  his  dressing-gown  at  the  foot  of  the 
Blairs,  and  musingly  spread  the  Bible  on  his  lap.  It 
fell  open  where  Mr.  Moddle  had  deposited  his  letters  on 
the  day  of  leaving  St.  Elymas.  He  put  the  St.  Simon's 
letter  in  his  pocket,  sighed  as  his  eyes  fell  on  sturdy  oW 
Biuks's  crabbed  direction,  and  mechanically  glanced  to 
the  large  clear  text  which  underlay  them.  It  was  the 
first  chapter  of  Jonah  and  the  third  verse:  — 

"  But  Jonah  rose  up  to  flee  unto  Tarshish  from  the 
presence  of  the  Lord." 

Mr.  Moddle  closed  the  book,  laid  his  chin  upon  his 
palm,  and  for  nearly  an  hour  sat  looking  steadily  away 
through  the  crimson  panes  of  the  hall,  then  rose,  put 
the  letters  away  tenderly  in  his  escritoire,  and,  after 
dressing  himself,  went  off  to  dine  with  the  Mansions. 

Mr.  Moddle  had  scarcely  got  well  underway  at  St. 
Simon's  when  the  summer  vacation  closed  its  doors,  and 
left  him  to  refresh  himself  until  mid-September.  He 
had  no  lack  of  places  to  go  to;  one  of  his  parishioners 
had  a  Hudson  River  country-seat  near  Hyde  Park; 
another  a  cottage  at  Newport;  a  third  cruised  about  in 
his  own  yacht  with  a  keen  instinct  of  all  the  coolest  and 


142  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

nicest  spots  to  land  at  through  the  hot  months.  All 
of  these  admirers  and  many  more  would  have  been  glad 
of  him  for  a  guest.  But  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mansion  cap- 
tured him  for  the  season  by  inviting  him  to  take  a  trip 
with  them  to  London,  the  Grampians,  and  Snowdon,  as 
one  of  their  family.  Mr.  Moddle  had  never  been  abroad, 
and  the  prospect  of  going  under  such  favorable  auspices 
might  never  again  be  open  to  him.  With  some  hesita- 
tion at  accepting  such  munificent  hospitality,  he  joined 
the  party,  and  reached  England  in  time  for  the  Doncas- 
ter.  He  hesitated  again  .when  the  subject  of  attending 
the  races  came  up;  but  his  good  sense  showed  him  the 
value  of  the  great  national  sport,  and  suggested  that  in 
all  probability  nobody  would  be  in  waiting  on  the  turf 
to  carry  back  reports  of  him  to  Vermont,  where  he  was 
born,  and  where  such  things  were  considered  horrible. 
Accompanying  the  Mansions,  whose  barouche  went  early 
enough  for  a  fine  stand,  he  was  pleasantly  surprised  to 
see  Chawsuble  cantering  up  to  them  on  a  handsome  gray 
hack,  by  the  side  of  a  gentleman  in  cords  and  tops,  with 
a  cutaway  of  pearl-gray  velvet,  and  mounted  on  a  gamy 
thoroughbred. 

"  I  saw  you  nearly  an  hour  ago,  and  couldn't  get  to 
you  through  the  crowd,"  cried  Chawsuble.  "  My  Lord, 
—  let  me  present  some  American  friends  of  mine,  —  Rev. 
Humphrey  Lord  Davenport,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mansion,  and 
the  Eev.  Mr.  Moddle  of  St.  Simon's."  The  gentleman 
in  cords  reined  his  horse  and  lifted  his  hat  at  one  side 
of  the  barouche,  while  Chawsuble  rode  round  to  the 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  143 

other  and  shook  hands  with  the  occupants.  The  carl 
was  an  elegant,  though  most  pronouncedly  British  man 
of  about  forty,  and  the  first  peer  who  had  ever  enjoyed 
the  honor  of  a  personal  introduction  either  to  Mrs.  Man- 
sion or  her  accompanying  fellow-citizens.  He  seemed 
captivated  at  once  by  the  American  delicacy  of  Mrs. 
Mansion's  beauty,  and  immediately  entered  into  a  con- 
versation with  herself  and  husband,  which  absorbed 
them  so  thoroughly  that  Mr.  Moddle  and  his  friend  were 
able  to  have  a  familiar  talk,  sotto  voce,  without  any  ap- 
pearance of  discourtesy.  Mr.  Moddle  learned  that  Lord 
Davenport  was  one  of  the  richest  noblemen  in  England; 
that  Mr.  Chawsuble  had  crossed  on  the  same  steamer, 
and  become  acquainted  with  him  through  having  read 
the  service  one  Sunday  in  the  cabin;  that  the  earl  was  a 
most  enthusiastic  churchman,  and  before  the  death  of 
his  elder  brother,  had  taken  orders;  that  he  still  offi- 
ciated daily  in  the  chapel  of  his  castle  in  Foxshire;  that 
he  made  the  highest  church  speeches  in  Parliament,  and 
rode  closest  to  the  hounds,  of  any  peer  in  the  realm. 
Chawsuble  further  mentioned,  as  a  point  by  no  means 
inconsistent  with  his  eminent  personal  excellence,  that 
he  had  invited  him  to  go  down  with  him  at  the  end  of 
the  session  and  stay  a  month.  On  their  return  to  town 
the  gentlemen  exchanged  cards,  and  Mrs.  Mansion  in- 
vited the  two  horsemen  to  call  where  her  party  were 
stopping  in  Russell  Square.  The  invitation  was  no  less 
promptly  availed  of  than  accepted,  and  during  the  re- 
mainder of  their  stay  in  London  there  were  many  inter- 


144  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

changes  of  courtesy  between  Lord  Davenport  and  his 
new  acquaintances.  Chawsuble  frankly  acknowledged 
that  he  was  uncertain  whether  he  should  return  to  Amer- 
ica or  not.  He  had  only  come  across  for  a  vacation 
tour,  but  was  so  charmed  with  some  of  the  men  he  had 
fallen  in  with  that  he  didn't  know  but  he  should  stay  and 
take  whatever  place  they  might  find  for  him.  "Wouldn't 
they  like  to  go  with  him  to  St.  Mary  Magdalen's  next 
Sunday  morning?  This  invitation,  having  been  accepted, 
was  followed  by  visits  to  Saints  Albans,  Barnabas,  and 
George  in  the  East.  The  five  Sundays  spent  in  London, 
before  and  after  the  trip  to  Wales,  were  devoted  to  a 
very  thorough  study  of  that  grand  Kitnal  Movement 
which  reappears  in  England  about  the  time  of  the  mete- 
oric shower,  lasts  somewhat  longer,  and  possesses  nearly 
as  much  influence  over  the  practical  British  mind.  Mr. 
Mansion,  at  first,  could  make  neither  head  nor  tail  of 
•  much  that  he  saw.  He  clouded  his  wife's  beauty  with 
pensive  reproach  for  an  entire  afternoon  by  asking  Chaw- 
suble who  was  that  fat  man  with  so  much  red  on  his  pet- 
ticoat, and  comparing  the  intoning  to  Shakers.  When 
the  officiating  clergymen  crossed  themselves,  his  face  as- 
sumed a  look  which  quite  reminded  Mrs.  Mansion  of 
Mephistopheles  in  presence  of  the  same  sign,  and  she 
had  to  tell  him  so  before  he  could-  be  overawed  into  not 
making  himself  conspicuous  to  the  congregation.  A  few 
weeks'  association  with  Lord  Davenport  greatly  molli 
fied  his  manners.  !N"ot  only  was  the  earl  a  generous, 
whole-souled  fellow,  but  a  very  capable  one,  —  had  worn 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  145 

off  by  travel  that  almost  Chinese  ignorance  of  the  rest 
of  the  world  which  belongs  to  the  native  Englishman,  — 
was  competent  to  talk  with  Mr.  Mansion  about  Ameri- 
can finance  in  a  clear,  sensible,  and  captivating  way,  — 
and  was  a  peer.  If  even  Thackeray  could  confess  joints 
where  his  anti-snob  harness  was  vulnerable  by  such  a 
personage,  let  us  confess  it  for  Mr.  Mansion,  as  doubt- 
less he  would  not  for  himself.  Before  he  left  London, 
Mr.  Mansion  found  himself  not  only  taking  St.  Mary 
Magdalen's  quite  calmly,  but  even  feeling  a  lively  inter- 
est in  the  proposition  originating  with  his  wife,  that  a 
choir  of  parish  children  should  be  added  to  their  quar- 
tette when  they  got  back  to  St.  Simon's,  and  that  these 
children  should  be  trained  and  surpliced  like  those  then 
before  them.  Through  Chawsuble's  and  the  earl's 
introductions,  Mr.  Moddle  was  several  times  invited  to 
assist  both  at  the  chancel  and  in  the  pulpit.  He  ac- 
quitted himself  in  a  manner  which  made  the  Mansions 
glow  with  a  pleasant  sense  of  proprietorship  in  him,  and 
got  his  eloquence  referred  to  by  the  London  correspond- 
ent of  the  Herald.  Thrown  constantly  in  the  compan- 
ionship of  the  men  whom  Chawsuble  had  found  so 
charming,  and  prompted  at  every  step  by  beauty  and 
enthusiasm  in  the  very  house  where  he  lived,  his  sus- 
ceptible nature  went  fluently  into  the  new  moulds,  and 
he  returned  to  Kew  York  with  ten  copies  of  Keble's 
Christian  Year  in  his  trunk,  presented  by  ten  several 
and  particular  friends,  and  an  advancement  of  thought 
upon  the  sanctity  of  stoles  and  candles,  compared  with 
in 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

which  the  state  in  which  he  left  America  was  as  one 
burner  to  the  full-orbed  chandelier. 

To  Mrs.  Mansion  Mr.  Moddle  owed  all  the  tact  by 
which  innovations  —  or,  as  they  said,  restorations  — 
were  to  be  introduced  into  the  worship  of  St.  Simon's. 
It  is  but  just  to  him  to  say  that  he  fully  realized  this 
fact  and  felt  abundantly  grateful  for  it.  He  was  wrapt 
in  admiration  of  that  quality  of  hers  which  in  unsancti- 
fied  matters  is  called  finesse.  How  would  his  clumsy 
man's  hand  have  managed  with  those  parish  children  ? 
He  confessed  to  himself  that  he  should  probably  have 
poked  them  all  at  once  in  their  surplices  into  the  chancel, 
to  have  excited  the  jealousy  and  suspicion  of  every  im- 
practicable low  churchman  in  the  parish.  But  how 
adroitly  she  began  by  enlisting  the  parents  who  populated 
the  Sunday  school  to  join  her  in  a  plan  for  having  their 
children  taught  sacred  music  upon  two  week-day  after- 
noons ;  and  how  skilfully  she  got  one  after  another  of 
the  babies  into  a  chorister's  gown,  first  as  a  reward  of 
merit,  then  on  the  plea  of  uniformity  !  What  a  pretty 
little  Christmas  entertainment  and  what  a  pretty  little 
enthusiasm  she  got  up,  when,  they  all  sang  carols  in 
snowy  lawn,  —  affecting  Mr.  Pryng  to  that  degree  that 
he  shed  tears,  and,  being  unable  to  recollect  anything  at 
the  time  he  came  on  earth  which  they  reminded  him  of, 
finally  fell  back  upon  ''  cherubim  "  !  How  wonderful 
also  was  it  to  see  Mr.  Carmine  rising  to  express  his  de- 
light at  the  festival,  and  proposing  the  very  thing  most 
at  Mrs.  Mansion's  heart,  though  she  had  never  given 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  if/ 

him  a  hint  of  it  in  words,  that  this  lovely  choir  be  pro- 
moted to  a  place  in  the  chancel  and  take  part  in  the  ser- 
vices of  the  church  ! 

To  Mrs.  Mansion  was  due  all  the  praise  of  that  inge- 
nuity which  first  presented  several  square  feet  of  Sal- 
viati's  handsomest  work  in  mosaics  to  the  church,  and 
then  had  it  inserted  in  the  ecclesiastical  East  as  a  bril- 
liant illustration  to  the  creed  and  the  commandments, 
thus  making  a  background  against  which  the  subse- 
quent rich  altar-cloth  and  vivid  bouquets  did  not  stand 
in  such  startling  contrast  to  stumble  weak  believers,  as 
they  would  have  done  against  the  plain  old  panelling  of 
cream  and  gilt.  These  are  but  a  few  of  the  instances  in 
which  that  able  and  devoted  young  apostle,  Mr.  Mod- 
die,  was  mainly  succored  and  entirely  steered  by  the 
bountiful  diplomatist,  who  hadjsuch  an  influence  over 
men  because  she  comprehended  them.  He  felt,  as  most 
men  enjoying  such  aid  and  direction  would  have  felt, 
something  very  like  worship  for  the  giver.  Her  presence 
\\as  a  pleasant  spell  ;  she  lighted  him  always  like  a  lamp 
of  success  ;  she  was  so  womanly  that  she  could  be  ad- 
mired to  the  full  without  the  sentiment  degenerating 
into  awe,  though  her  perception  of  an  end  and  the  ways 
to  it,  her  wise  yet  dauntless  manner  of  pursuing  those 
ways,  might  have  got  that  poorer  grade  of  applause,  if 
witnessed  in  a  man  and  a  general. 

When  the  Lenten  humiliation  succeeded  the  festivities 
of  Christinas,  Mr.  Moddle  preached  his  celebrated  Ash- 
Wednesday  sermon,  upon  the  text,  "Confess  ye  youi 


148  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

sins,"  and  concluded  by  inviting  any  sheep  of  his  fold, 
whose  minds,  at  this  penitential  season,  were  burdened 
with  the  memory  of  transgression,  to  come  and  talk  with 
their  true  and  loving  shepherd  in  the  rectory  of  St.  Si- 
mon's. His  invitation  was  accepted  by  half  a  dozen 
during  the  first  week  in  Lent  ;  one  of  them  a  gentle- 
man who  had  defrauded  the  revenue  department;  the 
others,  people  who  lived  unhappily  in  their  families, 
and  more  because  they  desired  a  confidant  than  because 
they  felt  themselves  to  blame,  came  to  let  their  sor- 
rows gush  into  the  bosom  of  their  pastor.  "What  with 
daily  morning  and  evening  prayers,  two  sermons  on 
Sunday,  and  the  "Wednesday  and  Friday  evening  lec- 
tures, Mr.  Moddle  had  his  time  so  occupied  that  other 
burdened  souls  called  and  missed  him.  To  meet  the 
cases  of  all  and  economize  his  own  leisure,  Mr.  Moddle, 
during  the  remaining  week,  set  apart  a  couple  of  hours 
on  Tuesday  and  Saturday  afternoons,  and  announced 
from  the  altar  that  he  would  meet  the  burdened  then. 

At  the  outset  he  had  no  idea  of  the  training  which  he 
was  preparing  for  himself,  —  a  training  of  revelation,  as- 
tonishment, and  consternation.  As  his  penitential  ses- 
sions became  better  attended,  he  had  a  hard  fight  not  to 
become  sceptical  regarding  the  existence  of  any  gen- 
nine  goodness  in  the  world  at  all.  So  many  wives 
and  husbands,  who  to  mankind  seemed  models  of  conja- 
gal  felicity  in  the  light  of  Mr.  Modellers  better  informa- 
tion became  haggard  wretches  with  aching  hearts,  sit- 
ting hard  on  nature's  safety-valves  for  the  sake  of  soci- 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  149 

ety,  and  tremulously  expecting  their  rust-eaten  relation 
to  explode  beneath  them.  So  many  respectable  families 
contained  one  irreclaimable  drunkard,  and  some  of  those 
drunkards  were  women.  Such  scandals  of  dishonesty, 
hushed  up  on  'Change,  came  to  Mr.  Moddle's  ear  from 
the  lips  of  their  socially  unblemished  perpetrators,  that 
the  Scriptures  seemed  reversed  ;  what  was  only  whis- 
pered in  the  market-place  was  proclaimed  in  his  closet. 
Large  need  that  closet  be  which  invites  any  average 
body  of  people  to  unpack  in  it  the  skeletons  from  their 
own  !  Mr.  Moddle  seemed  to  have  been  suddenly  taken 
round  upon  the  wrong  side  of  the  pattern  of  creation. 
Sometimes  his  brain  almost  reeled  as  he  asked  himself 
whether  all  the  beauty  of  the  universe  were  only  skin- 
deep.  This  private  dejection,  modified  by  the  necessities 
of  the  pulpit,  became  a  public  pensiveness  which  sat  well 
upon  the  youthful  divine,  and  caused  the  pathos  of  his 
sermons  to  be  much  remarked  upon.  All  this  was  well 
enough  during  Lent,  but  whence  was  he  to  expect  his 
Easter  inspirations  ? 

The  last  Saturday  of  the  mournful  season  came,  and 
with  it  a  succession  of  the  burdened.  A  number  of  la- 
dies visited  the  rectory  for  the  fourth  time,  —  having 
experienced  such  relief  of  mind  from  their  earlier  confi- 
dences that  they  fell  into  the  way  of  clearing  their  con- 
sciences at  shorter  periods,  so  as  to  keep  their  average 
burden  habitually  bearable.  This-  arrangement  re- 
dounded less  to  economy  of  time  than  the  sanguine 
might  have  supposed,  for  although  the  burden  which  had 
10* 


150  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

to  be  unpacked  at  any  one  time  was  not  so  great  as  it 
would  have  been  if  left  longer,  it  consisted  of  much 
smaller  minutiae,  and  Mr.  Moddle  had  frequently  to 
restore  peace  of  mind  to  lambs  of  his  fold  who  had 
forgotten  to  cross  themselves  in  the  creed  because  they 
were  thinking  of  their  next  neighbor's  Cashmere. 

He  had  dismissed  several  such  cases  of  conscience 
with  the  absolution  which  the  church  understands  to 
belong  to  people  being  penitent,  and  had  become  slightly 
weary,  when  a  light  tap  on  the  door  of  the  rectory  study 
announced  Mrs.  Mansion.  Her  very  presence  was  a 
sort  of  rest  to  him.  Her  voice  was  so  soft,  her  ex- 
pression so  appreciative,  her  beauty  something  so  ex- 
quisite to  dwell  on. 

"  Ah  me  !  "  thought  Mr.  Moddle :  "  it  is  I  who  ought 
to  confess  to  that  calm,  all  powerful  loveliness,  —  not  that 
to  me  !  To  me,  —  me,  getting  worldly  and  sceptical ! 
Ah,  if  she  knew  I  How  do  you  do,  Mrs.  Mansion  ?  " 

The  last  sentence  he  spoke  aloud,  rising  from  his 
study-chair  to  meet  the  lady  with  a  cordial  hand. 

The  thought  escaped  her  as  little  as  the  speech. 
Though  she  did  not  doubt  his  cordiality,  she  saw  that 
his  good  spirits  were  assumed. 

"  You  are  not  feeling  well  to-day,"  she  said,  anxious- 

iy- 

"  Only  a  little  tired,  that's  all, "  replied  Mr.  Moddle, 
cheerily,  sitting  down  by  her  side  upon  the  sofa. 

"  You  look  so  sad,  lately.  The  other  night  some  one 
remarked  it  at  our  house,  and  Mr.  Pryng  highly  coin- 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  151 

mended  you,  saying  that  by  good  rights  a  churchman 
should  always  be  sorrowful  at  this  season.  I  thought, 
but  I  did  not  say,  that  the  man  in  you  seemed  to  be  sor- 
rowing no  less  than  the  churchman.  You  know  who 
your  friends  are,  and  where  to  come  in  any  personal 
trial.  Are  you  —  ill,  Mr.  Moddle  ?  Why  wont  you 
see  Dr.  Bayard  ?  Let  me  give  you  a  note  to  him." 

"  Oh,  no  !  You're  very  kind,  but  I'm  not  ill,  and  as  to 
knowing  my  friends,  how  could  I  ever  forget  them  ? 
How  is  Mr.  Mansion  ?  " 

"  As  well  as  usual,  thank  you.  By  the  way,  he  was 
the  very  person  who  remarked  on  your  sadness.  After 
the  visitors  were  gone,  he  told  me  he  thought  he  under- 
stood it,  —  you  were  in  love  ;  and  he  asked  me  if  I  sup- 
posed the  young  lady  was  Miss  Brooks." 

"  What  did  you  tell  him  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Moddle, 
crimsoning  to  the  temple. 

"  That  I  had  never  esteemed  myself  worthy  enough 
of  being  your  confidante  to  ask  the  question." 

"  I  give  you  full  leave  to  state  that  there  is  nothing  in 
the  idea,  whatever.  Miss  Brooks  is  a  sweet  girl,  but 
neither  of  us  ever  dreamed  of  marrying  the  other." 

"  I  wish  only  that  I  knew  enough  of  what  troubles 
you  to  help  it  somehow,"  said  Mrs.  Mansion,  looking 
with  eyes  of  womanly  anxiety  into  her  minister's  youth- 
ful and  fair,  but  weary  face. 

"  It's  no  secret  from  you,"  said  the  young  man,  grate- 
fully. "  It's  only  those  mental  conflicts  through  which 
we  must  all  pass  sometimes.  The  Practical  and  the 


152  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

Ideal  must  have  a  stand-up  fight  in  everybody's  nature, 
I  suppose,  at  least,  once  a  fortnight."' 

"  Conflicts  ?  "  she  answered.  "  You  are  too  tired  to  talk 
of  such  things.  I  wont  weary  you  with  mine.  You 
have  surely  won  from  all  my  sex  your  respite  for  the 
remainder  of  the  afternoon." 

She  arose  and  brought  a  cushion  from  the  arm-chair 
across  the  room,  which  she  quietly  tucked  behind  his 
shoulders,  with  the  air  of  one  who  did  no  service. 

"There!  rest  now;  and  let  iis  talk  of  something 
soothing.  Do  you  know  the  children  have  their  Easter 
hymns  beautifully,  and  apropos  of  the  season,  here's  a 
little  basket  of  trailing  arbutus  which  I  selected  for  you 
from  a  box  sent  me  by  cousins  in  Chemung." 

The  subtle,  dreamy  fragrance  of  the  lovely  pink  and 
white  buds,  which  Mrs.  Mansion  drew  from  her  muff, 
seemed  even  more  expressive  of  herself  than  the  helio- 
trope. When  he  thanked  her  for  them  he  looked  her  in 
the  face,  and  could  not  help  thinking  that  its  loveliness 
was  more  like  that  of  some  marvellous  vision  than  any 
common  thing  on  earth.  He  would  not  let  her  plead  his 
weariness  for  him.  What  sorrowed  her  ?  He  clasped 
her  by  both  hands,  and,  with  the  frank  enthusiasm  of 
youth,  begged  her  to  open  her  heart  to  him. 

"I  am  not  weary  when  I  can  help  you,"  he  said. 
"  To  whom  should  the  lamb  flee  save  to  the  shepherd  ?  " 

"May  one  be  pardoned  and  retain  the  offence  ? " 
asked  Mrs.  Mansion,  gazing  into  his  face  with  a  sadness 
which  spoke  more  than  his  youth  could  know.  "  I  must 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  153 

confess  more  than  common  penitents.  I  must  confess 
that  I  am  wti^nitLnt.  If  I  sin,  I  love  my  sin.  It  may 
be  a  dreadful  thing  to  say;  but  I  do  !  oh,  I  do  !"  re- 
peated Mrs.  Mansion,  in  that  intensest  of  feminine  em- 
phases, a  low  voice. 

She  bowed  her  head  on  her  hand;  but  it  fell  on  Mr. 
Moddle's  shoulder  as  gently  as  if  she  had  been  a  child. 

"  The  Scriptures  and  the  church  both  represent  life  as 
a  terrible  struggle,'1  continued  he,  soothingly.  She  had 
put  her  handkerchief  to  her  eyes,  and  he  knew  that  she 
was  weeping,  though  she  did  not  sob  aloud.  "  I  know 
that  in  times  of  temptation  it  is  often  hard  to  say  w-hich 
side  we  stand  on,  —  Good  or  Evil,  —  but "  — 

"  And  do  you  ever  have  any  temptations  ?  "  asked  she, 
looking  up  into  his  face  with  tender  amazement.  "  You 
so  good  and  lovely,  —  so  like  one's  ideal  of  the  beloved 
John  ?  " 

"  Don't  say  so,"  said  the  minister,  sadly.  "  I  am  a  man, 
—  that  means  doubt  and  weakness.  But  we  always  have 
this  sure  sign,  I  think,  of  our  condition.  We  know  we 
have  passed  from  death  unto  life  if  we  love  the  brethren. 
Now,  do  you  not  find  encouragement  in  the  ardor  with 
which  you  love  the  church,  and  work  for  it  ?  " 

"  "What  if  I  had  found  my  idol  in  the  church  ?  "  said 
she. 

"  In  the  church  ?  " 

"  In  its  rector,"  she  answered. 

Her  bonnet  had  fallen  upon  her  neck.  Her  hair  on 
one  side  becoming  unfastened  fell  across  his  knee, 


154  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

turned  into  a  shower  of  burning  gold  by  the  beam  of 
setting  sunlight  which  fell  aslant  through  the  windows 
of  the  rectory.  To  the  young  man's  bewildered  gaze 
she  looked  like  an  Angel  of  Annunciation  out  of  some 
dream  of  Titian. 

He  gently  laid  his  hand  upon  her  shoulder  and  drew 
her  face  toward  his. 

"  Sweet,  wise,  beautiful  counsellor  and  comfort ! " 
spoke  he,  "  what  shall  I  say  to  you  ?  " 

Again  she  lifted  her  sweet  eyes  to  his,  and,  drawing 
down  his  lips  to  hers,  kissed  them. 

"  You  have  made  me,"  she  said,  faintly.  "  You  would 
have  me  confess."  And  she  did  not  take  away  her 
face. 

A  tap  on  the  study-door  brought  Mr.  Moddle  to  his 
feet. 

Answering  it,  he  found  only  Mr.  Binks,  of  Muddy 
Creek,  who  had  been  shown  the  way  by  the  servant; 
then  left  to  announce  himself  as  standing  there  in  ac- 
ceptance of  Mr.  Moddle's  former  invitation. 

Only  holding  parley  with  him  as  long  as  it  took  Mrs. 
Mansion  to  walk  away  from  the  sofa  to  the  farther  win- 
dow, Mr.  Moddle  was  obliged  to  introduce  him  into 
the  study.  Few  people  who  looked  at  old  Binks  could 
have  proposed  holding  interviews  with  him  in  an  entry. 
He  was  not  much  of  an  ante-room  subject,  wasn't  old 
Binks. 

Clad  in  a  suit  of  butternut  homespun,  unusually  fine 
in  texture  and  modestly  dark  in  shade,  holding  in  one 


Fleeing  to   Tars  Irish.  155 

hand  not  the  slouch  indigenous  to  his  section,  but  a 
beaver  which  had  graced  all  his  complimentary  occa- 
sions since  the  Harrison  campaign,  and  in  the  other  a 
glove  three  sizes  too  large  for  him,  which  he  now  and 
then  made  furtive  pretence  of  wearipg,  by  inserting  in 
it,  experimentally,  a  finger  at  a  time,  —  this  was  the  outer 
rind  of  Mr.  Biuks. 

The  next  was  a  vigorous  and  sinewy  body,  slightly 
stooped  by  life's  work ;  a  finely-shaped  head  large  about 
the  crown,  —  the  temples  and  the  back  covered  with 
thick  grizzled  hair,  worn  long;  a  musta'che  whose  gray 
was  still  broadly  lined  with  flaxen;  a  pair  of  eyes  sin- 
gularly kind  and  honest,  but  wondrously  mobile  and 
penetrating;  a  prominent  Roman  nose,  a  strong  jaw,  but 
a  mouth,  which,  when  it  spoke,  revealed  teeth  as  white 
and  smile  as  winning  as  a  little  child's. 

As  to  the  inmost  core  of  Binks  —  but  to  Heaven  alone 
belongs  the  judgment  of  all  true,  loyal,  manly  fellows  ! 

The  entirety  of  these  impressions  put  out  his  hand 
frankly  to  Mr.  Moddle;  and  as  the  clear,  pleasant  eyes 
met  his,  the  young  minister  somehow  felt  refreshed  as 
if  a  cool  wind  blew  on  him. 

As  he  stood  explaining  who  he  was,  Mr.  Binks's  blue 
eyes  glanced  past  the  door  at  Mrs.  Mansion.  He  put 
the  Harrisonian  beaver  to  his  breast,  and,  bowing  with 
the  grace  of  a  cavalier,  said,  — 

"  Ko,  —  I  'beg  pardon,  —  I  wouldn't  think,  raly,  of  in- 
terrupting you  if  ye're  having  a  private  conversation." 

Air.  Moddle  looked  toward  Mrs.   Mansion,   but  she 


Fleeing  to   Tarskish. 

studiously  gazed  out  of  the  window  into  the  ivy  on  the 
walls. 

"  Mrs.  Mansion,"  spoke  Mr.  Moddle,  hesitating,  "  may 
I  introduce  to  you  an  old  friend  and  correspondent  of 
mine,  Mr.  Kobert  Binks,  of —  of  Missouri  ?  " 

She  turned  quickly  from  the  window,  and,  repressing 
an  indescribable  look  of  grief  and  scorn,  became  wholly 
the  self-controlled  woman,  as  she  bowed  to  Mr.  Binks 
with  the  gracious  sweetness  of  some  popularly  beloved 
duchess,  and  welcomed  him  by  saying  that  to  meet  any 
friend  of  Mr.  Moddle's  was  always  a  delight  to  those 
who  had  been  his  oldest  and  truest  friends  in  St.  Simon's. 
She  talked  with  him  long  enough  about  himself  and  his 
journey  to  make  any  man  feel  at  ease  in  the  presence  of 
a  splendid  woman,  and  pave  the  way  for  excusing  her- 
self without  seeming  to  have  suffered  an  interruption. 
Then  she  looked  up  charmingly  at  Mr.  Moddle,  and  said, 
"I  believe  I've  said  all  I  can  say;  if  I  stay  longer,  I 
shall  be  late  at  dinner.  Come  to  see  us  with  Mr.  Mod- 
die,  Mr.  Binks.  Good-afternoon,  gentlemen." 

Mr.  Binks  took  a  seat,  while  Mr.  Moddle  saw  Mrs. 
Mansion  to  the  door.  He  followed  her  silently  down- 
stairs. At  its  foot  she  turned  round,  laid  her  head 
upon  his  bosom,  and  looked  imploringly  into  his  face. 

"  O  my  own  —  my  beautiful  Saint  John  !  "  —  she 
.spoke  in  a  tremulous  whisper,  —  "  you  are  my  worship, 
my  priest !  Can  you  not  speak  peace  to  me  ?  " 

Again  her  soft  arms  drew  down  his  neck,  and  he 
answered,  as  out  of  a  mist, ';  God  be  merciful  to  us  sin- 
ners ! " 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish,  157 

"  Can  he  be  merciful  to  you,  and  not  have  pity  on 
me  ? "  she  moaned,  with  her  lips  pressed  against  his 
cheek,  clasping  him  fiercely  as  despair,  yet  passionately 
as  possession. 

He  seemed  to  be  dreaming  her  into  his  life,  when  a  soft 
piping  from  above  revealed  that  Mr.  Binks  had  found 
the  parlor  organ,  and  was  practising,  to  the  tune  of 
"  Mornington,"  the  confirmation  hymn,  "  Soldiers  of 
Christ,  arise  ! " 

Mr.  Moddle  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes  like  one 
just  waking.  He  turned  the  knob;  he  clasped  the  beau- 
tiful wrist  resting  on  his  shoulder,  and  made  entreaty 
toward  the  open  door. 

"  Go  ! "  He  spoke  hurriedly,  not  daring  to  risk  his 
eyes  with  her  own.  "  Quick  —  for  God's  sake  —  while 
I  feel  so  ! " 

She  read  his  face,  and,  dropping  her  veil,  passed  qui- 
etly out  of  the  rectory. 

Mr.  Moddle,  having  stood  for  several  minutes  to 
compose  his  breath  which  was  like  that  of  a  man  who 
has  overrun  himself,  returned  upstairs. 

"  As  you  see,  I've  taken  the  freedom  of  faying  your 
melodeon,"  said  Mr.  Binks.  "  My  daughter  plays  ours 
at  home  and  in  the  church;  and  sometimes,  with  the 
latter,  in  bad  weather,  I  spell  her  a  leetle.  Powerful 
fine  instrument  this  !  How  she  speaks  !  But  I  don't 
rightly  understand  those  square  sorter  par'sol  handles, 
that  shove  in  'n  out  to  both  sides  of  the  key-board. 
You're  not  feeling  in  very  good  health,  I'm  al'eard,  sir," 
11 


158  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

added  Mr.  Binks,  with  a  look  of  kindly  solicitude  in  his 
eyes,  and  a  frank  clasp  of  the  young  man's  feverish  hand. 
"No;  I'm  a  little  overworked,  Mr.  Binks." 
"  And  not  enough  in  the  open  air,"  said  Mr.  Binks. 
"  Ah,  that's  bad  !  If  you  could  only  run  out  for  a  va- 
cation with  me,  now.  It  isn't  to  the  end  o'  deer-hunting 
yet,  and  you  kin  call  pe-rairie  hens  prime.  What  with 
that  and  rabbits  and  other  small  game,  we  could  keep 
you  in  all  the  exercise  you  wanted  till  July.  Then  you 
could  go  out  into  the  buffalo  region  as  far  as  White 
Rock  Creek  in  Kansas,  where  I'm  a  goin'  myself,  having 
some  lands  to  locate,  Lord  willin'.  You  look  as  if  it'd 
do  you  good ;  but,  situated  as  you  are,"  said  Mr.  Binks, 
glancing  around  the  gorgeous  library  with  honest  ad- 
miration, "  I  suppose  the  idee's  impossible." 

A  sudden  inspiration  flashed  upon  Mr.  Moddle,  and 
he  answered,  — 

"  Not  so  impossible,  perhaps,  as  you  think." 
"  No  ?  "  said  Mr.  Binks.  "  It  does  me  good,  right 
smart,  to  hear  ye  say  so  !  I'd  like  to  have  you  a  kinder 
survey  that  field.  My  heart's  somehow  sot  on  that 
idee.  Even  while  you  stayed  rector  here,  you  could 
help  us  all  the  better  for  havin'  seen  us  and  known  us. 
You'd  be  right  in  the  way  of  all  the  fust  sort  of  young 
men  as  went  into  the  ministry,  and,  when  a  good  man 
for  us  came  along,—  as  you  might  judge  by  havin'  taken 
our  measure,  —  why,  you  could  ask  him  to  come  and 
look  at  us,  too,  my  dear  sir.  We're  in  fearful  need  of 
a  first-class  man  at  Muddy,"  —  Mr.  Binks  waxed  warm 


Fleeing  to  Tarshish.  159 

with  enthusiasm,  and  wiped  his  brow  with  a  soft,  large 
bandanna,  — "  in  fearful  need,  Mr.  Moddle ;  and  it's  in 
my  heart  to  believe  the  Lord's  a-goin'  to  send  him  !  " 

Mr.  Moddle  sat  for  a  few  moments  silently  by  his 
guest's  side  upon  the  sofa.  Must  he  go  away  ?  Must 
he  not  go  away  ?  Was  he  safe  in  St.  Simon's  church  ? 
Was  St.  Simon's  church  safe  with  him  in  it  ?  He  be- 
thought himself  of  his  old  questionings  at  Chawsuble's 
aunt's;  his  mind  by  association  reverted  to  the  "Sortes 
Biblicce;"  and,  glancing  up,  he  beheld  the  old  family  Bi- 
ble lying  on  his  stand.  Half-ashamed,  as  of  leaning  to 
the  weakness  of  necromancy,  yet  in  desperate  stress  as 
to  his  future  course,  he  arose  and  opened  this  great 
volume  for  the  first  time  since  the  commencement  of 
Lenten  exercises.  Again  its  leaves  parted  where 
Binks's  letter  was  left,  and  again  had  the  Rev.  Jonas 
Moddle  to  read  from  the  prophecy  of  his  namesake. 
These  were  the  passages  which  his  eye  fell  on, — 
"  But  the  Lord  sent  out  a  great  wind  into  the  sea, 
and  there  was  a  mighty  tempest  in  the  sea,  so  that  the 
ship  was  like  to  be  broken." 

Then,  just  across  into  the  parallel  column, — 
"  So  they  took  up  Jonah,  and  cast  him  forth  into  the 
sea,  and  the  sea  ceased  from  her  raging." 

Mr.  Moddle,  almost  foundered  in  his  tempest,  looked 
ill)  from  the  text  at  his  guest. 

"  Have  you  still  no  minister,  Mr.  Binks  ?  " 

"  We  air  as  we  weer,"  said  the  old  Missourian,  sadly. 

"  Mr.  Binks,  if  your  invitation  still  holds  good,  I  will 


160  Fleeing  to  Tarshish. 

go  out  as  you  say,  to  give  a  kind  of  survey  to  your  field. 
Mr.  Binks,  in  confidence,  I  confess  to  you  that  I'm 
not  sure  but  my  acceptance  of  this  rectorship  was 
altogether  wrong.  I  mean  to  resign  here.  I  will  go 
with  you  if  you  want  me." 

"  My  dear  sir,  do  you  think  how  much  you're  promis- 
in'  ?  "  exclaimed  Mr.  Binks,  with  honest  astonishment. 

"  I  have  thought  of  everything,  Mr.  Binks.  I  have 
weighed  self  and  others,  and  found  the  difference  "be- 
tween these  two  objects  of  living  as  great  as  that 
between  the  death  and  the  life  of  the  soul." 

"  It  was  thoughts  like  them  which  warmed  my  heart, 
the  day  I  writ  of,  when  I  heerd  you  in  the  white 
church,"  said  the  old  man,  sympathetically. 

"  I  have  concluded  upon  my  course  without  taking 
guidance  of  any  lamp  but  duty.  I  will  go  with  you, 
Mr.  Binks." 

"  "Well,  sir,  I  see  ye're  solemn  earnest,  and  I  mayn't 
dispute  your  view  of  duty,  but  my  conscience  wont  be 
quit,"  said  Mr.  Binks,  looking  around  the  beautiful 
room,  with  those  same  honest  eyes  which  had  ever 
scorned  to  depreciate  his  seller's  animal  in  the  horse- 
market.  "  My  conscience  wont  be  quit,  not  unless  I  say, 
this  here  is  a  powerful  sight  to  leave  !  " 

"  I  realize  its  attraction  perfectly,  and  I  am  willing  to 
give  it  all  up  for  the  right  I  see." 

"  "Well,  then,  God  bless  you,  Reverend  Jonas  Moddle  ! 
I'll  never  keep  you  to  your  promise,  mind,  —  for  men 
don't  want  bonda  in  the  Lord's  work,  —  but  if  you  do 


Fleeing  to  Tarshtsh.  161 

hold  to  it,  on  couseedering,  I'll  be  unto  your  side  as  was 
Hur  unto  Moses,  and  prop  your  elbows  from  sun-up  to 
sun-down  !  " 

For  a  few  moments  the  two  stood  clasping  hands 
silently ;  then  Mr.  Moddle  said,  — 

"  You  were  talking  about  exercise.  You'll  stay  and 
dine  with  me,  of  course.  Would  you  like  to  take  a  little 
walk  with  me  before  ?  If  you're  not  tired  —  I've  not 
been  out  to-day." 

"  Tired  ?  "  said  Mr.  Binks,  as  if  he  indistinctly  remem- 
bered to  have  heard  the  word,  and  were  trying  to  asso- 
ciate it  with  some  idea.  "  Come  ahead  !  I  don't  feel  as 
if  I'd  been  out-doors  for  a  week.  I  was  up  from  the 
Astor  house  to  Union  square  a  few  times  to-day  ;  but 
bless  me,  that  isn't  gettin'  out  of  the  house  !  It's  houses 
everywhere  —  it's  bein'  in  the  house  multiplied  by  five 
miles  long.  I'd  walk  smart  if  I  could  get  to  a  little 
easy  breathin'  distance  out  o'  sight  o'  fences.  I'll  go 
where  you  like,  and  we  can  talk  as  we  go." 

Mr.  Moddle  put  on  his  hat  and  overcoat,  with  the 
intention  of  going  to  his  own  surgeon,  for  an  examina- 
tion and  a  certificate,  stating  that  his  nervous  system 
seemed  too  exhausted  to  permit  of  his  sustaining  longer 
such  responsibilities  and  labors  as  were  incumbent  upon 
the  Rector  of  St.  Simon's. 

But  after  he  should  have  enclosed  this  with  his  resig- 
nation, the  vestry  would  be  entitled  to  at  least  a  week's 
notice,  and  during  the  time  he  must  stay  in  the  rectory, 
and  be  accessible  as  the  official  head  of  St.  Simon's. 
11  * 


1 62  Fleeing  to  Tarshish. 

How  should  he  meet  the  torrent  of  remonstrances,  the 
questioning  letters,  the  calls  of  astonishment,  the  whole 
battery  of  subtler  influences  which  in  that  period  would 
surely  be  brought  to  bear  against  him  ? 

Pondering  the  inextricable,  inexplicable  problem  of 
his  fate,  Mr.  Mocldle  made  rather  a  silent  companion, 
as  he  walked  arm-in-arm  with  Mr.  Binks  up  Madison 
avenue,  ever  and  anon  returning  to  himself  to  make 
suggestions  or  answer  questions  as  to  houses  and  their 
occupants. 

"  TVho  lives  there  ?  "  said  Mr.  Binks,  pointing  to  what 
the  newspapers  call  a  brown  stone  palace,  on  the  corner 
above. 

"  That's  the  house  of  Mrs.  Duverney,  a  widow  of 
wealth,  who  has  two  children,  a  daughter  and  a  son. 
Both  the  ladies  have  been  devoted  attendants  on  my 
ministrations,  but  the  young  man  is  bitterly  prejudiced. 
He  has  fought  both  his  mother  and  his  sister  upon  every 
act  of  kindness  shown  me.  I  was  told  by  a  lady  friend 
that  he  had  openly  vilified  me  in  society,  accused  me  of 
being  a  Jesuit,  and  charged  me  with  every  scandal  of 
the  confessional." 

"  What  did  you  do  when  you  heard  that  ?  " 

"  I  went  on  my  way.  The  young  man  is  not  worth 
noticing;  he  is  a  wild,  maniacal  fellow,  of  uncontrollable 
passions,  but  most  generally  drunk,  which  seems,  in  his 
case,  to  act  as  a  sedative.  I  believe  he  is  coming  down  the 
steps  now.  Yes,  and  drunk  as  usual.  I'm  sorry  for  them 
all  to  see  him  go  on  so,  for  there's  lunacy  in  the  family." 


Fleeing  to  Tarshish.  163 

The  street-light  fell  on  Mr.  Moddle's  face  and  that  of 
the  person  coming  down  the  steps  just  as  they  both 
readied  their  foot.  The  young  man  gave  an  ugly  look, 
and  stumbled  against  Mr.  Moddle,  partly  from  surprise, 
partly  of  intention. 

"You're  the  soft-handed  fellow,"  broke  forth  the 
offender,  in  a  hoarse,  uncertain  voice,  "  who  plays  old 
woman  in  gowns  and  petticoats  behind  the  chancel,  to 
make  the  young  women  take  you  for  what  you  look, 
and  unpack  their  gossip  in  the  study  to  you  —  Holy 
Father  ! " 

The  intense  insult  of  the  tone  with  which  he  spoke  the 
last  words  was  followed  by  no  immediate  violence  of  ac- 
tion. Mr.  Moddle  was  for  stopping  to  return  stern  de- 
nial, but  Mr.  Binks  persuaded  him  on  by  reminding  that 
the  wise  man  never  struck  a  drunken  man  or  argued 
with  a  fool. 

Mr.  Duverney's  impetus  carried  him  nearly  across  the 
sidewalk,  but  he  recovered  himself  with  an  "ugh"  of 
befuddled  perplexity,  and  began  following,  semi-con- 
sciously,  the  direction  taken  by  the  rector. - 

The  two  walked  quite  briskly,  and  for  a  while  kept 
widening  the  distance  between  them  and  Mr.  Duverney. 
Before  five  blocks  were  passed,  however,  that  gentleman, 
brooding  on  his  grudge  against  the  world  that  had  pro- 
duced a  Moddle  and  laid  sidewalks  zigzag,  had  become 
still  drunker  than  when  he  sallied  forth;  so  that  in  fact 
he  found  himself  obliged  to  run,  in  order  that  he  might 
maintain  impetus  enough  to  keep  him  perpendicular 


164  Fleeing  to  Tarshish. 

This  rate  of  motion  soon  brought  him  up  rapidly  to  Mr. 
Moddle.  As  the  latter,  hearing  him,  drew  out  from 
the  wall  to  let  him  pass,  Duverney's  eye  again  caught 
him,  and  another  spasm  of  hatred  concentrated  all  his 
force  into  his  heavy  cane,  which  he  brought  on  the  back 
of  Mr.  Moddle's  head  with  his  entire  force  as  he  rushed 
by.  The  young  rector  fell  senseless  into  Mr.  Binks's 
arms,  and  no  policeman  being  within  reach  until  the  old 
man  had  tendei'ly  disposed  of  that  burden,  the  drunken 
bully  escaped. 

Mr.  Binks  stopped  the  first  passer,  and  sent  him  for  a 
carriage,  in  which  he  at  once  took  Mr.  Moddle  back  to 
the  rectory. 

Mr.  Moddle's  experience  was  almost  painless.  It 
began  with  a  dull  sound,  and  a  coruscation  of  the  entire 
surrounding  atmosphere;  this  was  followed  by  blank 
darkness.  Now  and  then  the  darkness  would  part  for 
an  interval  whose  length  he  could  not  measure,  and  the 
faces  of  the  Mansions,  with  various  members  of  his  flock 
besides,  woitld  peer  at  him  out  of  a  mist  whose  invariable 
background  ^was  the  kind,  honest  face  of  old  Binks. 
Then  came  a  period  of  confused  dreams,  —  of  strange 
masses  forever  changing  as  to  their  outward  form,  but 
inwardly  always  cavernous,  and  immuring  in  their  silent 
vastness  Mr.  Moddle  himself.  At  last  there  came  a 
fissure  in  the  immeasurable  blank;  the  beam  of  glad 
white  light  that  slanted  in  slowly  broadened;  he 
reached  forward  to  it;  he  struggled,  and,  with  a  great 
throe,  blackness  and  death  brought  him  forth  into 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  165 

life  and  the  sun.  He  tried  to  lift  his  head,  for  he  half 
saw  Binks  reading  by  his  table;  but  he  could  only 
manage  to  give  a  little  cry,  like  a  waking  baby.  Binks 
rose  and  came  to  him  noiselessly,  but  with  features  that 
could  not  repress  their  delight. 

"Thank  God  ! "  said  Binks,  in  a  low  voice.  " Thank 
him!  I'm  always  havin'  to  thank  him  for  something, 
and  I  do  thank  him  now." 

When  he  was  able  to  hear  it,  Mr.  Moddle  learned  that 
Mr.  Binks  had  been  watching  by  his  bedside  for  six 
weeks;  that  he  himself  had  suffered  brain  fever  from 
concussion,  although  the  skull  was  not  fractured  ;  and 
that  there  had  been  times  when  the  doctor  considered  it 
very  uncertain  whether  he  would  pull  through. 

One  of  the  first  recollections  which  flashed  upon  him, 
on  his  return  to  consciousness,  was  his  struggle  upon 
the  question  of  St.  Simon's  rectorship,  —  how  to  give 
that  up,  without  bringing  down  upon  him  such  a  de- 
mand for  his  inmost  reasons  as  he  could  not,  would  not 
answer;  and  how,  not  answering,  to  preserve  intact  his 
reputation  for  strength  of  character,  reasonableness,  and 
probity.  Somehow,  in  his  weakness,  this  question  did 
not  seem  to  trouble  him  as  much  as  it  normally  should, 
when  he  asked  Binks,  faintly, — 

"  "What  is  there  left  for  me  to  do  now  ?  " 

"  My  dear  boy  ! "  said  Binks,  tenderly,  sinking  the 
professional,  and  falling  back  on  the  human  relation, 
"  you've  nothing  to  bother  ye  now  !  Just  get  well, 
d'ye  see  !  You  attend  to  that,  and  eve^thing'll  fall  in 
straight  afterward." 


1 66  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

"  Did  you  tell  them  who  did  it  ?  " 

"I  told  'em  no  such  thing;  for  I  heerd  you  say  the 
matter  was  delicate.  If  you  hadn't  pulled  through,  I 
suppose  I'd  have  had  to  tell  'em.  But  you  did  pull 
through,  d'ye  see,  and  so  they  left  it  at  "  rowdies."  I 
never  see  a  horse  that  I  couldn't  tell  anywhere  if  I  see 
him  agin;  and  I  suppose  I  could  tell  that  man  Duver- 
ney;  but  I  didn't  want  to  make  that  row,  d'ye  see  ? 
!N"ow  you've  identified  yourself  ag'in,  so  to  speak,  —  got 
your  hand  right  onto  yerself,  so  you  know  where  it  is, 
and  I  reckon  there  wont  be  no  need  o'  no  other  identi- 
fyin'.  And  i-den-ti-fyin1 "  (Mr.  Binks  made  a  solemn 
pause  between  his  syllables  to  indicate  the  weightiness 
of  the  act)  "  is  a  right  mean  and  sorrowful  business.  I 
done  it  once,  when  Judge  Lynch  sot  on  a  bushwhacker, 
and  I'd  rather  give  my  best  gain-twist  than  do  it  ag'in ; 
for  hangin'  and  sich  goes  ag'in  me  smart !  " 

The  rector  clasped  his  wan  hands,  and  thanked  God 
that  the  ship  of  St.  Simon's  had  not,  through  his  being 
in  it,  foundered  under  the  scandal  which  he  feared. 

"  Can  I  go  with  you,  Binks  ?  "  he  added,  after  a  few 
moments,  in  the  plaintive  voice  of  a  little  lost  child  ask- 
ing to  be  taken  home. 

"  That  you  can,  certain,"  replied  Binks.  "  This  isn't 
the  time  to  hold  ye  to  nothin";  and  when  ye  feel  better, 
ye'll  remember  I  said  how  it  wasn't  in  me  to  hold  ye.  But 
if  you  care  to  go  out  to  Muddy  along'ith  me,  why  we  kin 
hev  a  vacation,  and  git  all  right,  an'  see  what  we'll  do 
next.  There's  nothin'  to  stop  ye;  ye'rc  not  corn-Hal 
uny  where,  my  clear  boy  ! " 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  167 

"But  what  will  they  think  ?  " 

"  They've  heerd  you.  You  don't  remember,  I  sup- 
pose, how  many  times  you've  said  you  couldn't  stay 
here;  you  must  get  right  up  and  go  to  Missouri.  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Mansion  heerd  it.  There  was  a  large  gentle- 
man in,'  with  a  reg'ler  towel  round  his  neck,  who  heerd  it, 
and  said  it  reminded  him  of  Paul  and  the  Macedonian 
cry.  Then  there  was  others  that  heerd  it.  But  you 
told  Mrs.  Mansion  and  me  plain  one  night  that  you 
done  wrong  in  coming  to  St.  Simon's,  and  was  a-goin'  to 
Muddy  right  as  soon  as  ye  got  xip  on  elbow.  We  knew 
that  was  on'y  dreamin',  and  didn't  count  nothin'  on  it, 
my  dear  boy;  but  it's  left  so  you  kin  do  any  thin'  you're 
a  mind  to." 

"  I'm  glad  you  didn't  tell  them  about  Duverney." 

"  Well,  I  like  to  go  easy  where  I  do'no  my  way." 

"  You  remember  my  reading  Jonah  to  you  ?  It's  al- 
most —  ah  !  —  last  thing  I  remember.  Do  you  know, 
'tseems  to  me  that  I  could  not  only  forgive,  but  thank 
Duverney  ?" 

"Well,  I  do'no.  I  reckon  I  could  forgive  him,  at  a 
pinch,  but  I'm  afeard  it'd  come  hefty  on  me,  not  a 
kinder  to  relieve  Adam,  if  I  saw  him,  by  takin'  a  crack 
at  him." 

"No,  Binks,  don't  even  feel  that  way.  I  spoke  of 
reading  Jonah,  because,  d'ye  know,  it  seems  to  me  (I 
may  be  light-headed  from  so  much  sickness)  as  if  I 
were  Jonah,  and  Duverney  were  the  whale  ?  He 
bolted  me  riirht  into  darkness.  But  how  should  I  ever 


1 68  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

have  got  away  from  St.  Simon's,  if  it  hadn't  been  for 
him  ?  And  I  must  get  away  from  St.  Simon's." 

Old  Binks  smoothed  down  the  young  man's  soft, 
brown  hair,  and  hushed  him,  for  a  moment,  as  he  would 
his  own  child,  then  said,  soothingly,  — 

"Well,  you  shall  git  away;  and  there  wont  be  no 
blame,  neither.  I  heerd  the  Mansions  talk  together,  — 
cryin'  as  they  spoke,  —  and  say  as  how  they'd  put  too 
much  anxiety  and  labor  on  the  shoulders  of  a  young 
man  of  devoted  piety  and  noble  genius.  The  words 
which  they  used  was  these,"  said  Mr.  Binks,  pausing  to 
see  if  he  had  stated  the  expression  at  once  with  becom- 
ing force  and  literalness. 

"  Then,"  continued  Mr.  Binks,  "  you  told  'em  to  stop 
cryin'." 

"  It  seems  to  me  I  remember  something  like  that," 
said  Mr.  Moddle,  mistily. 

"  And  they  answered  you  that  they'd  help  you  to  do 
whatever  you  thought  right;  and  they  both  stooped 
down  and  kissed  you." 

"  Mr.  Mansion,  too  ?  " 

"  Him  too,"  said  Mr.  Binks,  gravely. 

"  It  seems  to  me  I  remember  that  now,"  replied  Mr. 
Moddle,  smiling  faintly  for  the  first  time  since  he  re- 
covered his  consciousness. 

He  was  quietly  nursed,  and,  by  his  physician's  order, 
little  visited  for  another  week  in  his  bedroom  at  the 
rectory.  Then  he  quietly  went  off  by  boat,  one  even- 
ing, with  Binks  alone;  and  the  envelope,  which  enclosed 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  169 

the  doctor's  certificate  and  resignation,  to  be  handed  by 
Mr,  Mansion,  in  propria  forma,  to  an  already  informally 
advised  vestry,  was  postmarked  Muddy  Creek. 

In  Mr.  Moddle's  after  life  Duverney  was  seldom  re- 
ferred to  between  himself  and  Mr.  Binks.  But,  when 
his  mention  was  necessary,  he  was  always  spoken  of 
smilingly,  and  as  "  the  Whale." 


12 


170  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 


m. 


THE  Parish  of  Muddy  Creek  was  all  that  fancy  painted 
it.  Nor  was  there  an  atom  of  surcharged  color  in  the 
brush  of  the  Kev.  Joseph  Bowers.  Piety,  like  the  fruit- 
ful vine,  did  not  thrive  well  on  first-bottom  land,  though, 
morally  speaking,  a  looser  soil  was  difficult  to  find.  Back 
on  the  bluffs,  and  the  high-rolling  prairie,  Mr.  Moddle 
came  now  and  then  upon  some  untended  and  untrellised 
saint,  whose  rich  clusters  of  goodness  were  none  the  less 
refreshing  that  they  grew  on  a  seedling  stock  instead  of  a 
layer  from  some  old  ecclesiastical  vineyard,  —  a  stock 
which  had  lost  no  individuality  by  cutting  and  tying  to 
anybody's  stake. 

Mr.  Moddle's  parish,  from  Muddy  to  Plum  Creek  and 
Old  "Woman's  Eanche  to  Pea-Soup  Flats,  was  an  area 
of  about  twenty  miles  square.  All  hunting  up  the  stray 
sheep  of  his  corral  had  to  be  done,  like  his  neighbors', 
in  the  saddle.  The  frame  of  mind  in  which  Mr.  Moddle, 
as  to  the  natural  man,  regarded  that  animal,  the  horse, 
was,  like  that  of  most  men  trained  in  schools  of  abstruse 
theologic  study,  a  reminiscence  of  that  terrible  beast  in 
the  psalms,  who  must  be  held  in  with  bit  and  bridle  lest 
he  come  nigh  unto  thee.  Let  us  not  dwell  upon  the  dis- 
cipline by  which  he  was  converted  from  this  view,  —  the 


Fleeing-  to    Tarshish.  171 

lameness  of  leg,  the  stitches  in  side,  the  aerial  vaultings, 
owing  to  a  dim  conception  that  his  animal  might  be  ten 
feet  high,  by  which  the  new  rector  of  Muddy,  like  am- 
bition, o'erleaped  his  selle,  and  came  down  on  the  other 
side.  He  had  never  in  his  life  before  known  what  it 
was  to  be  laughed  at.  Of  that  cheap,  but  unattractive, 
novelty  he  now  had  overmuch.  As  he  rode  —  often, 
properly  speaking,  as  his  beast  bore  him  captive  — 
through  that  yellow  quagmire  flanked  by  straggling, 
dingy  houses,  which  constituted  the  Muddy  settlement's 
sole  claim  to  a  street,  derisive  greetings  daily  met  his 
efforts  to  learn  that  noble  art  whose  graces  witch  the 
world.  At  the  court-house  corner,  at  the  door  of  the 
rum-and-poker  den,  the  store,  the  justice's  of  the  peace, 
he  was  asked  if  his  knees  never  knocked  his  teeth  out, 
and  why  he  did  not  hitch  a  crank  to  his  elbows,  and  let 
^himself  out  for  a  horse-power,  with  numerous  other 
questions  of  that  nature,  which  Artemus*  characterizes  as 
"  suttle  goakin."  Still  he  pluckily  stuck  to  his  training, 
and,  by  midsummer,  had  not  only  gained  twenty  pounds 
in  weight,  as  well  as  a  vigor  and  a  color  to  which  he 
was  heretofore  a  stranger,  but  rode  so  well  that  nobody 
paid  the  least  attention  to  him.  West  of  the  Mississippi, 
a  man  must  ride  badly  to  attract  notice ;  and,  in  every 
direction  from  that  river,  the  world  is  only  on  the  qui 
vive  when  it  finds  something  to  censure. 
As  had  originally  been  proposed,  Mr.  Moddle  became 
*  Since  this  was  written,  alas  !  too  soon  immortal  ! 


172  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

an  inmate  of  Mr.  Binks's  house.  The  plantation  —  more 
accurately  the  ranche,  for  it  was  but  partially  enclosed, 
and  chiefly  devoted  to  grazing  purposes  —  covered  three 
thousand  acres  of  bottom  and  high  prairie,  a  couple  of 
miles  from  the  settlement.  Just  under  the  shelter  of  the 
bluff,  surrounded  by  a  grove  of  elms  and  oaks,  with  a 
pretty  view  of  the  serpentine  creek,  and  its  fringe  of 
cotton-woods,  stood  Mr.  Binks's  house,  a  structure  which 
recorded  in  itself  all  the  successive  phases  of  progress 
through  which  Missouri  architecture  has  passed  since  the 
day  of  Pike  and  the  earlier  Chouteaus.  The  first  phase 
was  represented  by  a  good-sized  wing  of  squared  cotton- 
woods  chinked  in  with  mortar;  the  following  ones  by 
more  ambitious  structures  of  frame,  batten,  and  clap- 
board,—  two  stories  high,  and  wandering  in  every  di- 
rection, as  if  they  had  started  in  life  with  some  dissipated 
idea  of  being  bowling-alleys,  or  a  mercantile  tendency 
to  become  rope-walks,  but  finally,  under  Binks's  per- 
suasion, settled  down  to  domestic  bliss  and  the  sober 
actualities  of  life.  Nothing,  in  all  their  labyrinth  of  L's 
and  lean-to's,  would  Binks  permit  ever  to  be  touched  by 
a  reconstructive  hand.  He  had  a  good  staircase  to  his 
loft;  but  the  rude  old  ladder,  which  had  been  its  first 
access,  was  still  his  favorite  means  of  ascent,  and  he 
would  have  pulled  it  down  no  sooner  than  his  king- 
post. Every  round  of  it  had  been  touched  by  dear  feet, 
which  would  walk  with  him  no  more  in  any  of  the 
world's  places;  and  he  had  never  forgotten  the  sweet 
face  -which  used  to  peer  from  its  top  above  the  level  of 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  173 

the  loft  floor,  like  a  curly-headed  sun  rising  over  a  cotton- 
wood  horizon,  to  wake  him  into  home  and  love  from 
the  buffalo-robes  under  which  he  lay  asleep  after  a  night- 
hunt  in  the  deer  covers.  Many  a  year  ago,  that  face 
grew  cold,  and  was  laid  under  the  wavy  blue  grass;  but 
Binks,  though  he  needed  no  reminder  of  its  vanished 
beauty,  had  one  always  before  him  in  his  playmate,  his 
housewife,  his  joy  and  darling,  his  only  child,  Susie. 

She  was  just  twenty  years  old.  Her  eyes  were  large, 
and  of  a  tender  dark-blue.  Her  features,  without  being 
entirely  regular,  were  full  of  spirit  and  delicacy;  her 
color,  a  pure,  lustrous  blending  of  olive  and  rose.  Her 
figure — just  above  woman's  middle  height  —  was  round, 
erect,  and  lithe  as  a  young  huntress,  and  her  hair,  which 
fell  in  a  profusion  of  curls  upon  her  shoulders,  was  a 
soft,  lustrous  mass,  black  like  the  raven's  wing.  Many 
rural  beauties  disenchant  admiration  when  they  speak; 
but  Susie's  voice  revealed  a  depth  of  womanly  sweet- 
ness, kindness,  and  truth  which  were  no  disappointment 
to  any  man  who  had  said,  "  What  a  lovely  mouth  ! " 
when  it  was  silent.  She  sang  like  a  bird,  as  cheerily,  as 
deliciously,  as  untaught.  She  played  the  melodeon  well 
enough  to  lead  the  chants  in  Muddy;  from  some  old 
books,  which  had  belonged  to  her  mother,  she  had 
learned  enough  French  not  to  be  puzzled  when  she 
crossed  a  quotation  in  her  English  reading.  She  kept 
herself  cut  courant  in  the  best  modern  literature,  and  had 
an  enthusiastic  appreciation  of  everything  beautiful  in 
the  nature  around  her,  or  in  the  art  she  had  only  heard 
12* 


174  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

and  dreamed  of;  there  was  not  a  subject  which  calls  for 
the  housewife's  planning  brain,  overseeing  eye,  or  skilful 
hand  in  which  she  was  not  perfectly  at  home.  These 
accomplishments  would  have  gone  but  very  little  way 
in  the  latitude  of  St.  Simon  Stylites;  at  Muddy  they 
were  precious.  And  Susie,  moreover,  had  that  disposi- 
tion for  whose  value  society  has  no  limiting  horizon; 
there  being  no  place  on  earth  where  a  spirit  of  unwea- 
ried womanly  helpfulness  like  Susie's  must  not  sooner 
or  later  be  found  the  best  and  most  enduring  thing  of 
all  —  the  thing  after  every  trial  of  time  and  circum- 
stance most  in  demand  for  the  use  and  the  ornament  of 
life. 

If  Mr.  Moddle  missed  the  luxury  of  St.  Simon's  li- 
brary and  the  atmosphere  of  culture  which  belongs  to 
the  highest  circles  of  metropolitan  society,  —  if  he  found 
his  professional  work  for  the  most  part  up-hill,  and 
often  returned  from  his  long  parochial  rides  or  laborious 
and  ill-attended  services  not  only  worn  out  with  bodily 
fatigue  but  suffering  still  more  than  the  average  dejec- 
tion belonging  to  every  youthful  enthusiast  who  starts 
forth  to  evangelize  the  world,  and  discovers  how  little 
it  cares  to  be  evangelized, — he  found  at  Binks's  two 
abundant  compensations  for  every  discouragement  and 
disaster.  For  the  first  time  since  he  lost  his  parents 
and  went  away  to  boarding-school,  he  had  a  home. 
Before  the  wild  pecans  got  ripe  and  the  cotton-wood 
leaves  grew  sere,  he  learned  the  further  fact  that  he  had 
a  heart,  and  that  was  Susie's. 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  175 

We  must  pass  over  a  period  of  two  years,  and  return 
to  Mr.  Binks's  house  to  find  it  a  nursery.  There  is  a 
little  girl  in  Mr.  Binks's  house.  Her  age  is  ten  months, 
and  her  name  is  Daisy  Moddle.  She  was  baptized  by 
that  name  in  the  Church  of  St.  John  the  Beloved  (lo- 
cally speaking,  in  the  court-house  —  the  church  that  met 
there  was  so  small  a  one  that  we  forgot  to  mention  its 
saint  before),  and  had  justified  her  name  ever  since  by 
being  the  eye  of  day  to  every  heart  that  knew  her,  from 
her  old  black  mammy  to  Binks  himself,  who  found  her 
the  image  of  both  his  Susies,  and  almost  sang  a  "  nunc 
dimittis  "  like  Simeon's  when  she  was  first  put  into  his 
arms.  I  neither  can,  nor  need,  say  what  she  was  to  her 
mother.  To  her  father  she  was  an  angel  of  unsealing, 
who  came  straight  from  heaven  to  touch  all  that  had 
been  rock  or  desert  in  him,  and  make  his  heart's  inmost 
fountains  gush  forth  with  singing.  When  he  sat  writing 
his  sermons,  mother  and  baby  must  always  be  in  the 
room  with  him.  Inspiration  flagged  the  moment  that 
he  looked  up  from  his  desk  and  found  them  gone.  When 
he  got  in  jaded  and  splashed  from  some  long  ride;  when 
he  returned  from  ministering  to  some  ruined  victim  of 
the  still  and  the  gambling-table,  soothing  some  tortured 
wretch  on  his  death-bed  with  delirium  tremens,  or  bury- 
ing men  who  had  murdered  each  other  in  a  fight  across 
a  cock-pit;  when  day  followed  day  with  scarcely  a  visi- 
ble reward  for  those  earnest  labors  to  which,  in  his  boy- 
hood, he  had  looked  forward  as  the  inevitable  purchase 
of  some  great,  concrete  triumph,  dejection  never  froze 


Fleeing  to  Tarshish. 

so  deep  in  his  heart  that  his  baby's  smile  could  not  thaw 
it  out  again. 

Mr.  Mocldle  had  preached  good,  faithful  sermons  twice 
on  every  Sunday  since  he  came  to  Muddy  save  the  three 
included  in  his  buffalo-hunt  on  the  Republican;  he  had 
held  weekly  services  whenever  it  was  demanded  by  the 
calendar  of  the  church  and  possible  to  the  roads  of  Mis- 
souri. He  had  frequently  exchanged  pulpits  with  the 
Rev.  Joseph  Bowers,  and,  wherever  he  preached, — in 
his  own  parish  or  out  of  it,  —  was  regarded  an  able, 
self-denying,  and  zealous  minister.  A  man  approved  of 
all  the  churches,  however,  is  not  necessarily  one  who  an- 
swers the  other  apostolic  idea,  and  commends  himself  to 
all  them  that  are  without.  Mr.  Moddle'had  every  man's 
respect;  but  it  could  scarcely  be  expected  of  youth's  small 
stock  of  experience  that  he  should  make  all  men  under- 
stand or  all  men  like  him.  He  did  not  fill  up  the  church 
rapidly.  To  be  sure,  in  that  part  of  Missouri,  few  min- 
isters did.  A  great  many  of  the  rough  characters  of 
the  settlement,  now  and  then  a  stranger  from  some  other 
"  section,"  would  drop  in,  drawn  by  curiosity  to  see  what 
the  service  was  like,  or  by  the  rector's  growing  reputa- 
tion for  preaching  busters,  which  is  the  Missourian  for 
pulpit  eloquence.  The  curiosity  satisfied  and  the  reputa- 
tion criticised,  these  visitors  generally  returned  no  more. 
The  faithful  few,  who,  with  Binks  at  their  head,  had 
kept  their  lamps  burning  through  the  religious  midnight 
of  Muddy,  stuck  it  out  bravely  still,  —  th'e  women  more 
especially,  —  and  suffered  from  no  declension. 


Fleeing  to   Tarshish.  177 

Mr.  Moddle  had  for  several  days  been  sorely  lament- 
ing the  condition  of  Zion,  when,  on  a  certain  morning  in 
June,  several  wagon-loads  of  singular-looking  people, 
followed  by  several  wagon-loads  more  of  equally  singu- 
lar-looking baggage,  drove  into  the  Muddy  settlement 
''from  up  St.  Louis  way,"  just  as  Mr.  Moddle  came  out 
of  the  post-office  with  his  letters. 

A  small  darkey,  whose  notions  of  raiment  were  limited 
to  one  coffee-sack  and  a  hole  to  stick  the  head  out,  — 
having  a  more  particular  eye  to  the  luggage,  since 
childhood  must  see  strange  men  enough  every  day, — 
remarked  that  the  visitors  were  a  circus;  and,  at  first, 
Mr.  Moddle  was  inclined  to  agree  with  him. 

It  was  not  long  before  both  were  undeceived.  The 
singular-looking  people  drove  to  no  tavern,  but  went 
straight,  as*  by  prearrangement,  to  an  open,  amphithe- 
atrical  spot,  under  the  bluff,  where  they  speedily  set 
doubt  at  rest  upon  the  nature  of  their  baggage,  by  pitch- 
ing it,  in  the  shape  of  tents,  on  the  sun-dried  grass.  But 
these  tents  had  nothing  either  martial  or  histrionic  about 
them.  They  bore  no  flags  nor  party-colored  canopies. 
'  Their  nearest  approach  to  ornament  were  the  large  pla- 
cards which  were  immediately  hoisted  high  upon  their 
sides,  while  several  of  the  strange-comers  went  out  along 
the  street  of  the  settlement,  to  distribute  reduced  copies 
of  the  same,  to  every  one  they  met.  These  placards 
read  variously,  but  a  good  idea  of  them  may  be  formed 
from  this  selection: 

"  Come  to   Jesus  !  "    "  Now's  the  accepted    time  1  " 


178  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

"Camp-meeting  every  day  and  evening  this  week  on 
Nodoway  Flat." 

A  shiver  of  inexpressible  disgust  passed  through  Mr. 
Moddle.  "  A  camp-meeting  ! "  To  him  the  idea  had 
all  his  life-long  been  synonymous  with  superstition,  cre- 
dulity, and  spasms.  He  hurried  to  the  tie-post  of  the 
tavern,  where  he  had  left  his  horse,  and  got  quickly  into 
the  saddle,  to  be  beyond  the  reach  of  fanatics,  repellant 
to  every  intellectual  fibre  of  his  religious  nature.  As  he 
rode  out  of  the  inn-yard,  one  of  the  new-comers  stretched 
out  a  card  to  him. 

"  N"o,  sir  !  "  replied  Mr.  Moddle, "  I  totally  disapprove 
of  the  whole  thing.-" 

"  If  God  agrees  with  you,  we  shall  fail,"  said  the  man, 
gravely. 

Mr.  Moddle  bowed,  in  stern  conclusion  -of  the  inter- 
view, and  rode  past.  He  had  not  gone  many  rods  before 
his  recollection  of  the  man's  sober  but  kindly  face 
made  him  ask  himself  if  his  manner  had  not  been  too 
severe.  Indeed,  all  the  singular-looking  people  were  as 
singular  in  this,  the  quiet  cheerfulness  and  good-will  of 
their  countenances  and  manners,  as  they  were  in  the 
neat  but  somewhat  austere  simplicity  of  their  dress. 

"Whatever  feeling  of  regret  he  had  was  taken  away  as 
he  stopped  his  horse  upon  the  bluff  and  looked  down  into 
the  settlement  of  Muddy.  Though,  to  get  back  to  Binks' 
he  must  eventually  return  to  the  first  bottom,  he  always 
took  the  best  and  longest  road  on  the  top  of  the  divide. 
From  the  bluff,  Mr.  Moddle  could  get  a' full  view  of  the 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  179 

whole  brawling,  straggling,  quaggy,  uninteresting,  and 
wicked  street  which  flanked  the  post-office  of  Muddy 
Creek.  Following  this  along  the  base-line  of  the  bluff, 
his  eye  came  to  the  Nodoway  flats,  where  the  recurv- 
ing creek  intersected  it.  Already  those  newly  pitched 
tents  were  swarming  with  eager  men,  women,  and 
children.  Every  idler  in  the  town  seemed  drawn  to 
that  one  magnetic  focus.  Already,  on  an  open-air 
platform,  somebody  was  addressing  a  company  of  up- 
turned, inquisitive  faces,  and,  as  Mr.  Moddle  looked, 
he  could  constantly  see  fresh  stragglers  dropping  in. 
He  took  out  his  watch;  it  could  not  yet  be  an  hour 
since  those  singular-looking  wagon-loads  drove  in. 
And  he  had  been  trying  all  these  years  to  save  —  then 
only  presumably  —  here  and  there  a  soul.  Those  ran- 
ters !  Those  'charlatans  !  In  one  little  hour  they  could 
gather  a  greater  audience  than  he  had,  counting  the  en- 
tire twelve-month. 

"  It  is  enough  to  make  one  despair  of  the  people  !  " 
said  Mr.  Moddle,  bitterly,  turning  his  mare  towards 
home.  "  I  can  do  nothing  with  them.  I  wish  I  had 
stayed  at  St.  Simon's, —  no  I  no  !  I  wish,  what  were  better 
yet,  that  I  had  died.  God  may  save  these  people,  but  he 
has  no  part  in  the  work  for  me." 

It  was  in  the  same  sad  and  severe  spirit  that  he 
reached  home.  He  looked  in  at  the  dining-room,  kissed 
his  wife  and  baby,  then  went  up  to  the  large,  open  room 
in  the  loft  where  he  wrote,  without  as  usual  asking  them 
to  accompany  him. 


i&o  Fleeing  to   Tarshish. 

He  threw  himself  down  on  the  floor  of  the  loft,  and 
pondered  on  many  things  with  a  sore,  discouraged  heart. 
He  thought  of  all  he  had  left  behind  in  the  world,  for 
the  sake  of  duty;  then  called  himself  an  ungrateful 
wretch  for  not  feeling  abundantly  paid,  even  in  this 
world's  goods,  by  Susie  and  Daisy.  Then  his  poor  little 
lonely  flock  in  the  jury-room  passed  before  his  eyes, 
and  the  picture  of  the  crowd  hurrying  to  camp-meeting 
swiftly  followed  it.  The  contrast  was  too  much  to  bear. 
Mr.  Moddle  rose  to  his  feet  unrefreshed.  His  eye  was 
flashing,  and  his  lip  curled,  as  he  said,  — 

"  Those  ranters  !  Those  charlatans  !  How  much  bet- 
ter to  have  died  than  been  sent  to  a  place  where  all  that 
a  man  can  do  is  to  preach  the  world  right  into  their 
arms!" 

Mr.  Binks  had  never  advanced  to  that  stage  of  father- 
in-law  familiarity  which  comes  in  without  knocking,  and 
it  was  he  who  now  announced  himself  by  a  gentle  tap  on 
the  rough  deal  door  of  the  loft. 

"  Come  in,"  said  Mr.  Moddle. 

The  old  man  helped  himself  to  a  chair,  and  wiped  his 
face  with  his  bandanna. 

"  I've  been  ridin'  smart,"  said  he.  "  It  looks  a  leetle 
like  a  hail-storm  to-night,  and  I  wanted  to  see  that  the 
boys  brought  the  yearlings  into  corral." 

"  Been  down  into  the  settlement  ?  " 

"Yes;  and  I  stayed  longer  than  I  meant  to,  looking 
how  those  camp-meeting  folks  got  on.  One  of  'em's  a 
kinsman  of  mine,  and  I  wanted  to  make  him  comforta- 


Fleeing  to  Tarshish.  181 

ble  here,  but  he  wouldn't  leave  the  tent.  lie  is  a  young 
fellow,  and  it's  allus  jist  sich  as  never  believe  there's 
goin'  to  be  a  hail-storm.  But  I've  been  raised  round 
here,  and  I  reckon  we're  goin'  to  hev  a  night  of  it.  If 
so,  they'll  have  to  strike  camp  down  there  t'  the  flat,  and 
hold  no  meeting  till  to-morrow." 

"  It's  well  if  they  couldn't,"  replied  Mr.  Moddle,  bit- 
terly. 

"Why  —  how  —  how  so  ?"  asked  old  Binks,  with  an 

/ 

air  of  surprise. 

""Can  such  a  devoted  churchman  ask  that  question  ?  " 
"  Well,  my  dear  sir,"  replied  Mr.  Binks,  with  some 
embarrassment  at  differing  from  his  rector  and  his  son- 
in-law  (Binks  could  not  tell  in  which  relation  he  most 
admired  him),  "  well,  my  dear  sir,  you  and  I  know 
they're  not  looked  on  as  regular,  to  be  sure.  There's 
nothing  about  'em  in  the  catechism;  there's  nothing 
about  'em  in  the  thirty-nine  Articles;  and  I'm  not  as 
well  posted  in  such  matters  as  I  ought  to  be,"  said  Mr. 
Binks,  at  once  apologetically  and  cautiously  feeling  his 
way  over  the  uncertain  ground  of  theologic  literature 
like  an  elephant  crossing  a  morass,  "  nor  so  well  as  I'd 
like  to  be,  but  I  think  that  there's  nothin'  fur  nor  agin 
them  in  the  Rubric.  They're  to  the  regular  army  of 
salvation  what  the  volunteers  are  to  Uncle  Sam's  in  war- 
time. They're  not  so  well  drilled  as  the  regulars,  and  I 
myself  like  that  old  regulation  musket,  the  Prayer-book, 
better  than  I  do  all  the  odd  and  even  sized  weapons  of 
prayer  that  ye  find  to  a  camp-meetin1.  When  th'e 


182  Fleeing   to    Tarshish. 

brother  has  a  gift  in  prayer,  I  love  uncommon  to  hear 
him;  but  'taint  every  brother's  got  it.  'Way  I  say  to 
camp-meetin'  folks  is  this,  'There  never  was  a  free 
country  saved  without  some  guerilla  fightin'  out  on  the 
frontier;  so,  though  you  don't  train  in  my  company,  all 
I  want  to  know  is  if  you're  fightin'  on  the  same  side.  If 
you  are,  go  in.  There's  enough  work  for  everybody 
that  wants  to  save  souls,  out  in  this  section,  I  can  tell 
ye  ! '  And.  my  dear  sir,  the  more  souls  they  save  the 
gladder  I'll  be.""* 

Susie,  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs,  called  them  to  dirraer. 
Binks  arose,  glad  that  the  conversation  was  turned 
before  his  earnestness  led  him  into  what  might  seem  a 
preachment,  and  Mr.  Moddle  followed  him  moodily 
down  to  the  table. 

It  was  well  that  Mr.  Binks  hurried  home  to  see  about 
the  shelter  of  his  young  stock;  for,  as  he  had  predicted, 
between  nine  and  ten  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  hail- 
storm came,  —  such  a  storm  as  can  only  be  produced  in  a 
country  which  claims  the  Mississippi  and  Kocky  Moun- 
tains of  its  family.  It  began  with  broad  flashes  of 
lightning,  gradually  increasing  to  a  steady  flame  which 
the  eyes  feared  to  look  upon,  with  an  occasional  crash 
and  rumble  which  grew  to  one  unbroken  roar.  It  be- 
gan with  headlong  torrents  of  rain,  like  whole  lakes 
pouring  bodily  from  the  black  and  fiery  heavens.  It  con- 
tinued, with  a  perpetually  accelerating  fury  of  wind,  until 
the  rain  became  a  scourge  knotted  with  icy  pebbles,  and 
the  mercury  went  down  almost  to  its  winter  register. 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  183 

Few  of  the  oldest  frontiersmen  have  lost  their  awe 
for  a  western  storm,  even  where  that  emotion  partakes 
much  more  of  reverence  than  dread.  Binks  was  awake 
all  night.  He  did  not  even  take  his  clothes  off.  This 
for  several  reasons.  His  sense  of  care  for  his  stock,  his 
vigilance  to  keep  everything  all  safe  about  the  premises, 
the  loyal  tendency  of  all  pioneers  to  stand  guard  in  any 
emergency  over  women  and  children,  and  the  perfect 
delight  which  the  sublimity  of  such  a  storm  gave  the 
aesthetic  side  of  old  Binks's  nature.  Those  Titan  stair- 
ways of  black  marble  cloud,  climbed  in  an  instant  and 
rifted  from  top  to  base  by  the  white  foot  of  the  light- 
ning; the  din  and  trembling  of  heaven  as  their  masses 
cracked;  the  unutterable  spirit  of  power  that  rode  in  the 
wind;  the  poetic  order  that  ruled  throughout  the  uni- 
versal clash;  these  to  Mr.  Binks,  brought  up  in  western 
Missouri,  were  what  the  opera,  classic  music,  the  stu- 
dios, high  art  of  all  kinds,  are  to  us.  He  would  no 
sooner  have  missed  the  spectacle  of  that  storm  than  you 
or  I  would  go  to  bed  on  a  Siddons  night,  were  the  tragic 
queen  permitted  to  star  it  on  earth  again  for  a  limited 
season. 

Long  after  midnight,  as  he  sat  in  his  room  vigilant 
for  calls  from  the  corral,  but  giving  delighted  attention 
to  the  sky,  which  he  could  see  through  his  western  win- 
dow, Mr.  Moddle  with  a  hurried  rap  came  to  beg  that 
he  would  look  in  and  see  Daisy. 

"  She  seems  very  feverish,"  said  Mr.  Moddle,  very 
like  hei  in  this  through  his  terrible  anxiety.  "  She 


184  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

tosses  and  moans  in  her  sleep  a  good  deal,  and  Susie 
and  I  are  troubled." 

Mr.  Binks's  heart  leaped  into  his  throat.  .He  instantly 
started  up  and  followed  his  son-in-law  to  the  bedroom, 
where  Susie's  face  looking  into  his  over  her  restless 
little  armful  made  him  the  mute  appeal  of  a  young 
mother's  first  fear,  the  moment  he  opened  the  door. 

"  Father  dear,"  said  Mr.  Moddle  with  a  trembling  lip, 
"  can  you  tell  us  what  is  the  matter  with  her  ?  Her 
breathing  seems  so  distressed  "  — 

Mr.  Binks  took  the  candle  and  looked  with  tender 
scrutiny  into  the  weary  eyes  which  seemed  to  know 
him  and  ask  help  of  him ;  saw  how  hard  Daisy  found  it 
to  breathe,  and  was  about  to  pronounce  the  case  croup, 
when  it  occurred  to  him  to  examine  the  child's  throat, 
as  he  had  seen  doctors  do,  with  a  spoon-handle.  Mr. 
Binks  read  the  papers  enough  to  know  how  diphtheria 
showed  itself,  and  with  one  glance  at  the  thickening 
white  patches  which  lined  the  little  throat,  saw  what 
made  him  set  down  the  candle,  and  turn  to  hide  his  dis- 
may from  Susie  by  looking  out  of  the  window. 

But  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  He  could  think  of 
no  medicine  fitter  for  the  case  than  the  Hives'  syrup  they 
had  been  using.  He  had  heard  that  steam  eases  the 
breathing  of  a  diphtheritic  patient  and  keeps  the  mem- 
brane from  becoming  consistent.  He  had  heard  that 
the  faculty  gave  stimulants,  and  there  ended  all  the 
wisdom  which  he  had  to  help  steer  that  all-precious 
little  bark  through  this  terrible  exigency.  No  wonder 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  185 

the  cold  drops  stood  on  his  forehead  !  But  something 
must  be  done  at  once;  it  would  do  to  wait  for  no  doctor. 
So  he  controlled  himself,  and  with  a  hopeful  voice  told 
the  parents  what  ailed  their  Daisy.  His  courage  made 
them  brave.  In  less  than  five  minutes  they  had  replen- 
ished their  fire,  and  had  a  teakettle  steaming  vigorously 
through  a  stable-hose  over  Daisy's  face.  They  had  pre- 
pared a  mild  milk-punch,  and  Susie  was  giving  it  at 
short  intervals,  a  teaspoonful  at  a  time.  Binks  rapidly 
imparted  to  them  all  the  counsel  he  could,  and  hastened 
to  the  stable  to  ride  to  the  settlement  for  a  doctor.  "When 
they  spoke  to  him  about  the  night,  he  told  them  that  it 
was  the  kind  of  weather  he  loved,  and  cheerily  bade 
them  take  heart,  and  told  them  that  his  horse  and  he 
knew  every  foot  of  the  road  in  the  dark.  "With  a  lan- 
tern at  his  pommel  he  went  off  bravely  into  the  pelting 
night,  as  he  would  have  gone  into  a  battle  to  serve  any 
Avhom  he  loved. 

As  soon  as  the  thunder  hid  the  clatter  of  his  hoofs, 
his  son-in-law  sat  mutely  down  by  the  fire,  gazing  into 
his  wife's  face  and  Daisy's.  The  vapor  seemed  begin- 
ning to  make  the  baby's  breathing  easier,  but  the  stimu- 
lants had  yet  done  little  for  her  evident  languor  and 
pain. 

"Husband,"  spoke  Susie,  when  the  silence  of  the 
watchers  got  unendurable,  "  will  you  read  a  little  in  the 
Bible  to  me  ?  I  feel  so  afraid,  dear,  —  and  my  heart 
aches  so." 

He  kissed  her  tearful  eyes  and  tremulous  mouth,  and 
13*  * 


186  Fleeing  tu    Tarshish. 

went  and  brought  his  own  old  Family  Bible  from  the 
spot  where  Susie  had  set  a  cushion  for  it  when  she  was 
first  married.  He  sat  down  by  the  lamp,  and,  in  the 
mechanical  way  of  one  stupefied  with  anxiety,  slowly 
spread  the  book  open  on  his  knees. 

"What  always  had  happened,  from  the  first  day  its 
pages  held  Binks's  letter,  happened  now.  The  leaves 
separated  at  the  prophecy  of  Mr.  Moddle's  namesake.  In 
the  same  mechanical  way  with  which  he  opened  the 
book  his  eye  glanced  down  the  column,  and  as  it  went 
the  following  passages  past  it  in  review  like  some 
sketchy  but  powerfully-drawn  panorama: 

"  And  the  Lord  God  prepared  a  gourd,  and  made  it  to 
come  up  over  Jonah,  that  it  might  be  a  shadow  over  his 
head  to  deliver  him  from  his  grief.  So  Jonah  was  ex- 
ceeding glad  of  the  gourd. 

"  But  God  prepared  a  worm and  it  smote  the 

gourd  that  it  withered. 

"  And  it  carne  to  pass  ....  that  Jonah  said,  '  It  is 
better  for  me  to  die  than  to  live.' 

•  •  •  •  "  Then  said  the  Lord,  thou  hast  had  pity  on  the 
gourd,  for  the  which  thou  hast  not  labored,  neither 
madest  it  grow. 

.  .  .  .  «  And  should  not  I  spare  Kineveh  ?  " 

"  O  dear  wife  ! "  said  Mr.  Moddle,  kneeling  down  at 
the  lap  where  his  little  Daisy  lay,  "  I  have  been  an  un- 
grateful, hard-hearted  sinner." 

"  Husband  !  "  said  Susie,  half-reproachfully.  Though 
she  knew  in  a  general  way  that  all  mankind  are  sinners, 


Fleeing  to  Tarshish.  187 

her  husband  seemed  to  her  a  man  who  could  never  be 
ungrateful  or  hard-hearted. 

"  Yes,  Susie,  not  to  you,  nor  to  Daisy,  nor  to 
dear  father,  but  to  God.  I  have  quarrelled  with  his 
mercy  and  compassion,  —  been  angry  with  his  largeness, 
—  been  angry  that  much  good  is  done  in  the  world  by 
men  widely  other  than  myself.  I  have  quarrelled  with 
his  creation  of  me,  —  with  the  places  where  he  has  put 
me  in  life.  I  have  been  restive  and  impatient,  /restive  ! 
J  impatient !  to  whom  he  gave  you  and  Daisy  as  a  love- 
ty  bower  to  grow  up  over  me  while  I  sat  in  the  desert  of 
my  life  crying  God's  warning  to  a  world  no  worse  than 
I.  Not  because  I  had  any  right  to  command,  but  be- 
cause I  was  to  be  spoken  through  from  above.  I  impa- 
tient !  when  perhaps  even  to-morrow  more  souls  may  be 
saved  out  of  Muddy  by  those  Methodists  than  I  have 
saved  with  my  whole  three-years'  work  ?  That  did 
make  me  impatient.  It  was  for  a  moment.  I  abhor  my- 
self for  that  moment !  How  can  I  wonder  that,  to  call 
me  back  from  such  a  black  spirit,  he,  who  sent  me  the 
sweet  plant  to  be  my  cover  from  the  heat,  will  not  hesi- 
tate, if  need  be,  to  smite  it !  But,  O  Lord,  the  lesson  is 
learned.  I  have  seen  my  sin.  I  am  glad  thy  work  is 
done  by  anybody  I  Give  me  any  part  of  it,  —  only  spare 
this  dear,  dear  shelter  !  " 

In  the  intensity  of  his  emotion,  he  clasped  his  arms 
around  his  wife  and  child,  and  kissed  them,  — all  three 
face  to  face. 

Daisy  opened  IHT  lovely  eyes,  knew  her  father,  and 


1 88  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

stretched  out  her  little  arms  to  go  to  him.  This  first 
conscious  effort  brought  on  an  immediate  spasm  of  dis- 
tressed breathing.  The  young  father  leaped  up  in  de- 
spair. 

"  O  God  !  I  have  killed  my  child  !  "  he  thought,  heart- 
brokenly,  as  he  brought  the  steam  nearer  to  Daisy's 
face. 

She  gave  a  convulsive  grasp,  —  the  veins  in  her  fore- 
head grew  purple  while  the  blood  was  slowly  settling 
back  into  her  parents'  hearts,  and  then  Life  drove  out 
Death  with  one  great  throe.  Something  like  a  little  deli- 
cate cartridge-paper  was  all  that  separated  between  the 
foes;  and  when  the  fiercest  combat  raged  for  the  posses- 
sion of  Daisy,  Life  broke  that  through  with  a  cough.  A 
little  delicate  cast  of  a  little  delicate  windpipe  —  to  think 
that  the  dividing  width  between  Lifo  and  Death  may  be 
less  than  a  line  !  —  that  the  decision  between  them  may 
be  an  ounce  or  so  surplus  of  pneumatic  pressure,  inher- 
ited from  a  strong-lunged  race  ! 

The  false  membrane  ejected,  the  baby's  breathing 
was  perceptibly  easier  at  once.  Mr.  Moddle  sat  till 
dawn,  feeding  her  milk-punch  as  she  lay  in  her  mother's 
lap,  and  keeping  up  the  steam  above  her  face.  Gradu- 
ally her  face  lost  its  bloated  look  and  sank  toward  the 
sweet,  natural  roundness  of  childhood;  her  pulse  be- 
came evener  and  fuller;  and,  at  intervals,  she  appeared 
to  be  getting  good,  natural  sleep.  When  she  awoke,  she 
would  pat  their  cheeks,  take  a  teaspoon  ful  of  her  punch, 
lie  curiously  regarding  them  for  a  while,  then  draw  a 


Fleeing  to  Tarshish.  189 

pleasant  little  sigh,  as  if  the  inspection  had  proved  sat- 
isfactory, and  go  to  sleep  for  half  an  hour  more. 

The  day  broke  cold  and  murky.  The  hail  had  ceased, 
but  the  wind  was  savage,  booming  in  and  out  through 
the  deep  ravines  of  the  bluff,  making  havoc  with  all  the 
dead  cotton-woods,  whirling  great  sheets  and  tangled 
skeins  of  bark  into  the  air,  like  a  crazy  rag-man  out 
on  holiday,  snapping  off  from  the  dismantled  skeletons 
entire  limbs  at  once;  and  trying  the  stanchness  of 
everything  along  Muddy  Creek,  as  a  man's  hour  of  sor- 
row tries  the  loyalty  of  his  friends. 

There  was  one  institution  along  the  bank  of  this 
Epic's  sacred  river,  Avhich  stood  the  test  as  well  as  if  it 
had  been  rooted  three  feet  in  the  soil,  instead  of  lifted 
that  height  above  it  by  a  swift-galloping  horse,  —  Daisy's 
grandfather,  to  wit,  — who,  with  his  long  grey  hair  stream- 
ing from  under  his  slouch,  the  ends  of  his  grizzled  mus- 
tache floating  back  to  his  ears,  his  buffalo  collar  dang- 
ling loose  on  his  back,  his  throat  open  and  lu's  face  full 
of  a  whole  life's  faith  and  patience  concentrated  into  one 
hour,  —  did  not  seem  to  know  it  was  cold,  and  rode  as 
the  Pride  of  the  Border  should,  whether  it  blow  or  no. 
Beside  him  came  another  man,  —  a  rough-looking  fellow, 
in  his  great  bear-skin  coat,  —  whom  Mr.  Moddle  would 
scarcely  have  taken  for  the  person  accosting  him  yes- 
terday with  a  tract,  unless  he  looked  closely  in  his 
face,  and  saw  the  grave  refinement,  simplicity,  and  kind- 
liness there  was  there.  As  they  both  rode  silently,  Mr. 
Binks  thought  over  the  matter  of  his  night's  errand.  He 


Fleeing  to  Tarshish. 

had  found  the  only  two  doctors  of  the  settlement  off  long 
distances  on  midwifery  cases. 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Binks, "  God  save  the  little  babies 
that  are  goin'  to  be  born.  O  Lord,  if  .ye  could,  save 
Daisy,  too  ! " 

He  had  caught  hold  of  God  with  such  a  desperate 
faith  that  he  was  quite  at  peace. 

"  If  it  had  been  best  for  Daisy,  the  doctors  would  have 
been  here.  The  angels,  that  take  care  of  little  children, 
always  behold  my  father's  face." 

The  thought  occurred  to  him,  as  by  an  inspiration 
arising  out  of  this  peace,  that  he  had  heard  his  cousin 
talk  of  a  missionary  announced  to  speak  at  the  camj  - 
meeting,  who  was  also  a  very  able  practitioner  of  medi- 
cine. The  hail  had  long  ago  broken  up  the  camp;  for 
though  one  may  put  up  with  lying  out  in  a  hail-storm  on 
the  Plains,  not  even  an  Indian  does  it  when  he  can  get 
shelter.  The  camp-folk  were  dispersed  among  various 
houses  along  the  street,  and  thus  it  happened  that  Mr. 
Binks  could  not  gain  clue  to  the  missionary,  wake  him 
and  get  him  on  the  road  home  with  him,  until  dawn  was 
breaking  in  upon  the  watchers  by  Daisy. 

"  Sunrise  !  "  said  Binks.  "  Don't  you  think  there's 
some  leetle  chance  still,  brother  Linn  ?  " 

"  I  hope  so." 

For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  the  old  man's  heart 
would  break;  but  he  drew  himself  straight  in  his  seat. 
"I  wasn't  there  when  she  died,  —  my  Susie's  S"p;"v 
Daisy  ! " 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish.  191 

Dtr v  was  slumbering  very  quietly,  when  a  clatter  of 
hoofs  ia  the  front-yard  brought  Mr.  Moddle  instantly 
down  to  the  door. 

"  Well  ?  "  said  Mr.  Binks. 

"  Daisy  seems  better,"  said  Mr.  Moddle. 

The  old  man's  stern,  grave  face  melted  away  at  once 
into  the  look  of  a  thankful  little  child,  and  clasping  his 
son-in-law's  neck,  he  hid  his  face  in  his  breast  and  wept 
aloud. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  he,  resolutely,  "  I  mustn't  break 
down  now  1  I'm  forgettin'  my  manners,  brother  Linn  — 
this  is  my  dear  son, —  my  Susie's  husband  and  my  Dai- 
sy's father,  —  Mr.  Moddle,  brother  Linn. 

"I  have  seen  you  before,  —  you  offered  me  something 
yesterday  which  I  too  churlishly  refused.  I  am  sorry 
for  it.  Though  there  may  be  many  tilings  we  disagree 
upon,  I've  gone  through  during  the  past  night,  with 
enough  to  show  me  that  I've  been  wrong  in  quarrelling 
about  our  shares  in  the  work  of  the  world.  Xow,  I  ask 
you  only  thi?,  —  what  work  do  you  want  in  this  world  " — 

"  To  help  make  the  world  better,"  said  the  missionary, 
opening  to  the  young  man's  scrutiny  as  kind  and  honest 
a  pair  of  eyes  as  ever  belonged  to  a  soul  true  to  its  in- 
most conviction. 

Mr.  Moddle  stretched  out  his  hand,  and  took  the  mis- 
sionary cordially. 

"  That  is  my  work,  also,  brother  Linn." 

The  next  day  in  camp-meeting  brother  Linn  publicly 
thanked  God  for  the  recovery  of  Daisy,  and  there  was 


192  Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 

not  a  dry  eye  in  the  tent  when  the  people  heard  for  the 
first  time  at  once  of  the  sickness  and  recovery  of  fim 
old  Binks's  grandchild.  From  that  hour  the  tender 
layer  of  th  j  Muddy  Creek  nature  seemed  to  have  been 
reached.  The  raging  drunkards,  the  quarrelsome  bullies, 
the  card-sharpers,  and  the  irreclaimable  loafers,  all  began 
flocking  into  the  tents,  seemingly  for  no  other  reason 
than  that  a  simple  little  story  had  been  told  of  a  popular 
favorite's  baby-grand-daughter,  who  had  been  given 
back  from  death  in  answer  to  agonizing  prayer.  I  know 
people  who  think  this  a  most  ridiculous  reason  for  mak- 
ing such  a  stir;  but  I  have  to  deal  with  facts  as  they 
universally  are  among  mankind,  —  in  this  particular  in- 
stance among  the  Missourians  of  Muddy  Creek.  They 
were  powerfully  moved  by  the  incident,  so  that  great, 
shaggy  fellows,  whose  appearance  at  the  window  of  a 
drawing-room  would  have  thrown  all  the  women  into 

O 

hysterics,  were  to  be  seen  sobbing  like  children.  They  evi- 
dently believed  it  was  an  answer  to  prayer,  for  they  fell  to 
praying  immediately.  The  result,  while  the  camp-meeting 
stayed  in  Muddy  Creek,  was  a  settlement  freer  from  its 
worst  vices  than  old  Binks  himself  had  ever  seen. 

And  after  the  camp-meeting  went,  what  ? 

Not  the  millennium.  It  is  no  one-dose  remedy  which 
will  ever  cure  the  world.  Muddy  Creek  settlement,  shar- 
ing with  the  world  in  this  respect,  did  not  become  so  good 
that  there  was  not  much  left  for  Mr.  Moddle.  Nothing 
was  absolutely  perfect;  there  was  no  day  when  trench- 
mg  was  not  as  large  a  part  of  the  Christian  soldier's 


Fleeing  to    Tarshish. 


work  as  psalm-singing ;  the  best  people  in  the  parish 
were  not  so  good  but  they  could  conceivably  be  better; 
but  Mr.  Moddle  had  become  a  changed  man,  who  could 
tolerate  the  world  as  it  is,  and  do  his  share  in  it. 

Not  that  the  change  in  the  place  was  imperceptible. 
There  was  a  shutting  up  of  all  the  worst  dens,  the  res- 
toration of  peace  in  families  to  wlu'ch  it  had  been  a 
stranger  for  years,  the  addition  to  Mr.  Moddle's  church 
of  many  whom  the  camp-folks  had  reclaimed.  For  as 
old  Binks  said, — 

"  There  are  lots  of  people  who  could  take  real  comfort 
with  their  heads,  if  they  only  got  their  hearts  saved  first." 
Perhaps,  also,  the  preaching  of  the  rector  is  more  to  the 
hearts  of  men  than  it  used  to  be;  for  many  more  people 
than  he  ever  found  before,  now  feel  a  sincere  affec- 
tion for  him.  Old  Binks  has  now  two  desires  of  his 
heart  —  an  able  man  for  Muddy  Creek  and  a  house  to 
praise  God  in.  The  latter  is  an  unpretending  frame 
structure,  with  a  small  organ,  a  cross  on  the  spire  and 
no  mortgage  anywhere. 

Daisy  and  Susie  shall  paint  a  little  picture  to  close 
this  view  of  Mr.  Moddle's  experience.  As  he  sits  at 
twilight  among  the  Michigan  roses  which  climb  on  his 
porch,  the  baby,  grown  to  be  a  lovely  little  girl  of  six, 
and  Susie,  changed  only  by  the  deepening  of  her  eyes' 
constant  expression  of  wifely  and  maternal  love,  lean 
over  him,  until  lie  isemlxmcrcdupon  both  sides  in  curls. 

"  See,  mamma,  we're  making  a  little  summer-house 
over  papa." 

14 


194          '      Fleeing  to  Tarshish. 

And  that  moment  there  came  into  Mr.  Moddle's  inind 
a  text,  which  has  dropped  out  of  the  canonical  version  of 
his  namesake's  prophecy: 

"And  Jonah  said,  'I  have  sinned.'  "Wherefore  the 
Lord  rebuked  the  blight,  and  the  gourd  sprang  again, 
and  its  shelter  was  sevenfold.  And  Jonah  sat  under 
the  shadow  of  the  gourd  and  thanked  the  Lord  exceed- 
ingly." 


LITTLE    BRIGGS   AND    I. 


(195) 


LITTLE  BRIGGS  AND  I. 


'M  going  to  give  you  a  bit  of  autobiography,  and 
when  I  say  that,  I  don't  mean  the  usual  kind. 
Most  people  who  write  their  own  lives  make 
up  for  themselves  an  ideal  of  perfect  living,  to 
which  they  square  their  facts.  The  Kev.  Mr. 
Rhodomontade  does  not  tell  how  he  pulled  all  the 
hairs  out  of  his  Greek  professor's  horse's  tail,  and 
the  Hon.  Simon  Pure  gives  us  no  reminiscences  of  the 
day  when  he  cheated  at  marbles.  I've  no  doubt  that 
Payson  got  tight,  and  James  Brainerd  Taylor  stole 
sweetmeats  off  the  top  shelf  of  his  mother's  closet  ;  that 
Benjamin  Franklin  played  hookey,  and  General  Scott 
cried  when  he  got  thrashed.  Head  their  memoirs,  and 
you  wont  find  a  stagger  or  a  stained  apron,  a  black 
mark  or  a  blubber,  in  the  whole  of  them.  If  memoirs 
are  meant  for  a  personal  puff,  this  is  all  very  well.  If 
they're  for  the  generation  to  come  after  us,  it  couldn't 
be  worse.  Many  a  trembling  saint  gets  demoralized  by 
contemplation  of  such  inaccessible  excellence.  He  feels 
14* 


198  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

as  if  he  were  reading  about  another  man's  having  got  to 
Newport  without  ever  having  passed  through  Massachu- 
setts or  Connecticut,  Narraganset  Bay  or  Long  Island 
Sound.  His  idol  has  the  fruits  of  experience  without 
the  experience  itself ;  and,  naturally  considering  him  an 
exceptional  case,  he  gives  up  the  insoluble  problem  of  re- 
sembling him.  I  don't  think  Rousseau's  Confessions 
exactly  the  kind  of  book  for  boarding-school  reading, 
but  for  instruction  in  the  conduct  of  human  life  it's 
worth  a  dozen  memoirs  of  any  Mr.  Optimus  Paragon, 
written  by  himself.  Let's  know  where  the  reefs  are,  if 
you  did  get  that  ugly  bump  on  your  keel  !  So  far  as  we 
have  steered,  there's  no  remarkably  plain  sailing  ;  if 
you've  had  it  all  the  way,  very  well  ;  you're  in  port  now  ; 
hand  your  log  over  to  the  owners.  "We,  who  have 
plenty  of  foul  weather,  are  busy  with  charts,  and,  when 
there's  a  fair  spell,  find  livelier  reading  in  Eobinson 
Crusoe.  If  you  don't  like  to  tell  how  many  mistakes 
you've  made,  how  rash  you've  been,  how  mad,  even  how 
mean,  —  why,  you've  etymology  on  your  side,  for  mod- 
ern autobiography  is  derived  from  the  fact  that  it's  a 
man's  life  as  it  ought-to-be,  and  not  as  it  was.  In  that 
sense  I'm  ruled  out  of- your  company,  for  this  sketch  is 
no  ought-to-be-ography  at  all. 

My  name  is  Ben  Thirlwall,  and  I  am  the  son  of  rich 
but  honest  parents.  I  never  had  a  wish  ungratified  un- 
til I  was  twelve  years  of  age.  My  wish  then  was  to 
stay  on  a  two-year-old  colt  which  had  never  been 
broken.  He  did  not  coincide  with  me,  and  a  vast  revela- 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  199 

tion  of  the  resistances  to  individual  will  of  which  the  uni- 
verse is  capable,  also  of  a  terrestrial  horizon  bottom  up- 
ward, burst  upon  me  during  the  brief  space  which  I 
spent  in  flying  over  his  head.  Picked  up  senseless,  I 
was  carried  to  the  bosom  of  my  family  on  a  wheelbar- 
row, and  awoke  to  the  consciousness  that  my  parents 
had  decided  on  sending  me  to  boarding-school,  —  a 
remedy  to  this  day  sovereign  in  the  opinion  of  all  well- 
regulated  parents  for  all  tangential  aberrations  from  the 
back  of_a  colt  or  the  laws  of  society. 

The  principal's  name  was  Barker  ;  and  my  only  clue 
to  his  character  consisted  in  overhearing  that  he  was  an 
excellent  disciplinarian.  I  was  afraid  to  ask  what  that 
meant,  but  on  reflection  concluded  it  to  be  a  geographi- 
cal distinction,  and,  associating  him  with  Mesopotamia 
or  Beloochistan,  expected  to  find  him  a  person  of  mild 
manners,  who  shaved  his  head,  wore  a  tall  hat  of  dyed 
sheep's  wool,  and  did  a  large  business  in  spices  with 
people  who  visited  him  on  camels  in  a  front-yard  sur- 
rounded by  sheds,  and  having  a  fountain  that  played  in 
the  middle. 

Having  read  several  books  of  travels,  I  was  corrobo- 
rated in  my  view  when  I  learned  that  Mr.  Barker  lived 
at  the  east,  and  still  further,  when,  going  around  Point 
Judith  on  the  steamboat  with  my  father,  I  became  very 
sick  at  the  stomach,  as  all  the  travellers  had  done  in 
their  first  chapter. 

I  need  not  say  that  the  reality  of  Mr.  Barker  was  a 
vdry  terrible  awakening,  which  contained  no  lineament 


2co  Little  Briggs  and  /. 

of  my  purple  dream  save  the  bastinado.  "Without  dis- 
tinction of  age  or  season  the  youths  who,  as  per  circular, 
enjoyed  the  softening  influences  of  his  refined  Christian 
home,  rose  to  the  sound  of  the  gong  at  five  A.  M.,  which 
may  have  been  very  nice  in  a  home  for  the  early  Chris- 
tians, but  was  reported  among  the  boys  to  have  entirely 
stopped  the  growth  of  Little  Briggs.  This  was  a  child, 
whose  mother  had  married  again,  and  whose  step-father 
had.  felt  his  duty  to  his  future  too  keenly  to  deprive  him 
of  the  benign  influences  of  Barker  any  time  in  the  last 
six  years.  After  rising,  we  had  ten  minutes  to  wash 
our  faces  and  hands,  —  a  period  by  the  experience  of 
mankind  demonstrably  insufficient,  where  the  soap  is  of 
that  kind  very  properly  denominated  cast-steel  (though 
purists  have  a  different  spelling),  and  you  have  to  break 
an  inch  of  ice  to  get  into  the  available  region  of  yonr 
water-pitcher.  Chunks,  who  has  since  made  a  large 
fortune  on  war-contracts,  kept  himself  in  pea-nuts  and 
four-cent  pies  for  an  entire  winter  session,  by  selling  an 
invention  of  his  own,  which  consisted  of  soap,  dissolved 
in  water  on  the  stove  during  the  day-time,  put  in  bottles 
hooked  from  the  lamp-room  by  means  'of  a  false  key,  to 
be  carried  to  bed  and  kept  warm  by  boys,  whose  pocket- 
money  and  desire  for  a  prompt  detergent  in  the  morn- 
ing were  adequate  to  the  disbursement  of  half  a  dime  a 
package.  I  myself  took  several  violent  colds  from  hav- 
ing the  glass  next  my  skin  during  severe  nights  ;  but 
this  was  nothing  so  bad  as  the  case  of  Little  Briggs,  who, 
from  lack  of  the  half-dime,  often  came  down  to  prayers 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  201 

with  a  stripe  of  yesterday's  pencil-black  on  one  side  of 
his  nose,  and  a  shaving  of  soap,  which,  in  the  frenzy  of 
despair,  he  had  gouged  out  of  his  stony  cake,  on  the 
other.  The  state  of  mind  consistent  with  snch  a  condi- 
tion of  countenance  did  not  favor  correct  recitation  of 
the  tougher  names  in  Deuteronomy  ;  so,  it  can  be  a 
cause  of  surprise  to  no  one,  that,  when  called  on  at 
prayers  and  prompted  by  a  ridiculous  neighbor,  little 
Briggs  sometimes  asserted  Joshua  to  have  driven  out 
the  Hivites  and  the  Amorites,  and  the  Canaanites  and 
the  Jebusites,  and  the  Hittites  and  the  Perizzites,  and  the 
Moabites  and  the  Musquito-bites,  for  which  he  was  reg- 
ularly sent  to  bed  on  Saturday  afternoon,  as  he  had  no 
pocket-money  to  stop,  his  papa  desiring  him  to  learn 
self-denial  young,  as  he  was  intended  for  a  missionary; 
though  goodness  knows  that  there  wasn't  enough  of  him 
to  go  round  among  many  heathon. 

From  this  specimen  of  discipline  may  be  learned  the 
entire  Barkerian  system  of  training.  I  was  about  to 
say,  "  ex  uno  disce  omnes,"  but,  as  it's  the  only  Latin  I 
remember  from  the  lot  which  got  rubbed  into — or 
rather  over  —  me  at  Barker's,  I'm  rather  sparing  of  it, 
not  knowing  but  I  can  bring  it  in  somewhere  else  with 
better  efiect.  As  with  the  Word  of  God,  so  with  that 
of  man,  —  the  grand  Barkerian  idea  of  how  to  fix  it  in  a 
boy's  memory  was  to  send  him  to  bed,  or  excdriate  liis 
palm.  If  religion  and  polite  learning  could  have  been 
communicated  by  sheets,  like  chicken-pox,  or  blistered 
into  one  like  the  stern  but  curative  cantharides,  Mr. 


2O2  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

Barker's  boys  would  have  become  the  envy  of  mankind 
and  the  beloved  of  the  gods;  but  not  even  Little  Briggs 
died  young  from  the  latter  or  any  other  cause,  which 
speaks  volumes  for  his  constitution. 

Even  at  Barker's,  boys  grew  up,  somehow;  and  in 
process  of  time  I  became  fourteen  years  of  age.  I  rec- 
ollect that  epoch  well,  for  it  was  marked  by  my  first  sor- 
row. I  learned  to  sympathize,  at  least  half  way,  with 
Little  Briggs.  I  lost  a  good  and  indulgent  father,  though 
I  did  not  get  one  of  an  opposite  character,  nor  indeed 
any  at  all.  When  I  came  back  to  Barker's,  a  few  weeks 
after  the  funeral,  little  Briggs  looked  at  me  with  pe- 
culiar interest,  and  made  me  a  timid  offer  of  baked 
chestnuts. 

"  I  had  on  as  good  clothes  as  that,  when  I  was  in 
mourning,  —  real  bombazine  with  jet  buttons,"  said  Little 
Briggs,  waxing  confidential  during  second  recess.  "  I 
wish  I  was  in  mourning  now.  Do  you  feel  very  bad  ?  " 

My  heart  rose  in  my  throat. 

"  Of  course  you  do.  But  I  wouldn't.  I'm  different, 
you  know  ;  my  dad's  not  the  real  thing,  —  only  imita- 
tion. If  he  should  die  I  wouldn't  cry  —  no  more  —  no 
more  than  —  than  "  -  -  Little  Briggs  cast  about  for  some 
particularly  stern  and  tearless  comparison,  and  finally 
hit  on  the  not  very  felicitous  one  of  "that  pump," 
which  just  at  the  moment  was  yielding  water  freely 
to  the  solicitations  of  Mr.  Barker's  hired  man,  Yankee. 
Yankee  was  pumping  for  the  cook,  between  whom  and 
himself  there  were  supposed  to  be  still  more  romantic 


Little  Briggs  and  /.  203 

love-passages,  wide  .credence  having  been  given  among 
Barker's  boys  to  the  theory  that  she  was  the  daughter 
of  a  man  with  countless  millions,  who  had  turned  her 
out  of  doors  on  account  of  her  love  for  a  pecller  of  hum- 
ble birth  ;  upon  Avhich  she  and  the  pedler,  not  to  be  sep- 
arated, had  come  to  take  service  at  Barker's.  Maturer 
selfishness  than  ours  would  have  propitiated  her  with 
reference  to  her  post-obit  expectations,  but  the  blan- 
dishments of  Barker's  boys  were  directed  solely  to  the 
more  immediate  particiilar  of  pies.  As  we  passed  Yan- 
kee and  the  cook,  the  latter  glanced  at  Little  Briggs's 
threadbare  knees,  and  said  compassionately  to  her  com- 
panion, — 

"  Poor  thing  !  he  don't  look  as  if  he  was  much  sot  on 
by  his  family  !  " 

"  Wall,  naow,"  replied  Yankee,  with  a  drawl  and 
twinkle,  "  I  should  say,  to  look  at  him,  that  they'd  all  on 
'em  sot  on  him  to  once,  and  tol'ble  heavy  tew  !  " 

Little  Briggs  heard  him.  and  made  what  within  my 
experience  was  his  first  self-assertion.  He  rushed  at 
the  pump,  with  his  face  as  pale  as  death  and  his  lip  quiv- 
ering, drew  back  his  foot,  paused,  and  — 

"  See  here,  you  old  hog,"  said  Little  Briggs,  "  if  that 
wasn't  the  cook's  pail,  I'd  — I'd  kick  it  over  !  " 

"  They're  all  hogs,"  he  added,  as  he  walked  away  with 
me,  leaving  Yankee  petrified  by  his  exceptional  demon- 
stration, "  everybody's  hogs  at  Barker's.  Barker's  the 
biggest;  he  haint  got  any  more  feeling  than  a  bedpost. 
When  your  father  died,  the  fellers  all  signed  a  paper 


2O4  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

asking  for  a  half-holiday,  and  Pete  Gilbert  took  it  up  to 
him  ;  and  he  went  right  on  with  school  just  the  same. 
Don't  I  wish  I  was  big  enough  to  break  his  head  !  I'd 
run  away  this  minute  —  if  I'd  only  got  anywhere  to 
run  to  ! " 

"Whether,  as  a  result  of  his  first  bold  stand,  or  from  the 
expansive  influence  of  having  found  in  me  something 
like  a  common  ground  of  human  sympathy,  Little  Briggs, 
to  the  surprise  of  everybody,  began  growing ;  —  so  rap- 
idly, in  fact,  that  within  a  few  months  he  confided  to  me 
as  many  as  three  letters,  signed,  "  Yours,  T.  Mixer," 
and  written  in  a  stiff,  invoicy  hand,  to  complain  of  an 
extension  of  legs  which  had  defeated  all  T.  Mixer's  cal- 
culations regarding  the  annual  family  demand  for  pep- 
per and  salt  cassimere  ;  and,  moreover,  if  the  mind 
might  yield  fond  credence  to  T.  Mixer  as  a  representa- 
tive of  Briggs's  mamma's  opinions,  given  that  lady  great 
solicitude  from  being  an  indication  of  the  "  tuberculous 
diathesis."  "  If  I've  got  to  have  that,"  said  Briggs, 
"  I'd  rather  stay  short  —  what  is  it  ?  "  I  confessed  my 
ignorance,  and  advised  him  to  ask  Barker,  in  which  I 
did  him  an  unintentional  unkindness,  that  worthy  invit- 
ing him  to  examine  the  dictionary,  which  might  have 
suggested  itself  in  the  first  instance,  and  assisting  him 
to  fix  it  in  his  mind  by  writing  it  on  a  slate  three  hun- 
dred times  after  school-hours. 

In  spite  of  all  (I  am  not  sure  but  this  may  be  a  mix- 
ture of  metaphors),  Briggs's  legs  turned  a  deaf  ear  to 
parental  remonstrance,  his  upper  frame  at  the  same  time 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  205 

filling  out  to  a  degree  which,  taken  in  connection  with 
the  stern  simplicity  of  Barker's  table,  was  a  corrobora- 
tion  of  the  nutritive  properties  of  oxygen,  which  must 
have  satisfied  the  most  sceptical  physiologist.  By  the 
season  that  we  were  both  fifteen,  he  lacked  but  an  inch 
of  the  five  feet  six  on  which  I  prided  myself  ;  and  six 
months  after,  when  I  began  to  talk  of  going  to  college, 
he  was  quite  up  to  me,  and,  but  for  a  certain  unmistak- 
able air  of  never  having  any  pocket-money,  one  of  the 
wholesomest  looking  boys  in  school. 

It  was  about  this  latter  period,  that  an  astonishing 
innovation  was  introduced  at  Barker's.  The  two  Misses 
Hoodie  came  to  establish  a  young  ladies'  seminary  in 
the  village  of  Mungerville,  on  whose  outskirts  our  own 
school  was  situated,  bringing  along  with  them,  as  the 
county  paper  stated,  "  that  charming  atmosphere  of  re- 
finement and  intellectuality  in  which  they  ever  moved  ;  " 
and,  what  was  of  more  consequence,  a  capital  of  twenty 
girls  to  start  with.  Professional  politeness  inspired  Mr. 
Barker  to  make  a  call  on  the  fair  strangers,  which  the 
personal  fascinations  of  the  younger  Miss  Moodle  in- 
duced him  to  repeat.  The  atmosphere  of  refinement 
and  intellectuality  gradually  acted  on  him  in  the  nature 
of  an  intoxicating  gas,  until  at  length,  after  twenty-five 
years  of  successfully  intrenched  widowhood,  he  laid  his 
heart  in  the  mits  of  the  younger  Miss  Moodle,  and  they 
two  became  one  Barker. 

As  a  consequence  of  this  union,  social  relations  began 
to  be  established  between  the  two  schools.  Mrs.  Bar- 


206  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

ker,  of  an  occasional  evening,  wished  to  run  down  and 
visit  her  sister.  If  Mr.  Barker  was  engaged  in  quarry- 
ing a  page  of  Cicero  out  of  some  stony  boy  in  whom  na- 
ture had  never  pade  any  Latin  deposit,  or  had  just  put 
a  fresh  batch  of  offenders  into  the  penal  oven  of  untimely 
bed,  and  felt  compelled  to  run  up  now  and  then  to  keep 
up  the  fire  under  them,  by  a  harrowing  description  of 
the  way  their  parents  would  feel  if  they  knew  of  their 
behavior — an  instrument  dear  to  Mr.  Barker  as  a  fa- 
vorite poker  to  a  boss-baker  in  love  with  his  profession 
—  then,  after  a  clucking  noise,  indicative  of  how  much 
he  would  like  to  chuck  her  under  the  chin,  but  for  the 
presence  of  company,  Mr.  Barker  would  coo  to  Mrs. 
Barker,  "  Lovey,  your  pick,  sweet ! "  waving  his  hand 
comprehensively  over  the  whole  school-room';  or  "  Dear, 
suppose  we  say  Briggs,  or  Chunks,  or  Thirlwall,"  as 
the  case  might  be.  The  only  difficulty  about  Briggs 
was  clothes.  That  used  to  be  obviated  by  a  selection 
from  the  trunks  of  intimate  friends  ;  and  Briggs  was 
such  a  nice  boy,  that  it  was  a  real  gratification  to  see 
him  with  your  best  jacket  on.  Many's  the  time  the  old 
fellow  has  said  to  Chunks  or  me,  "  What  a  blessing  that 
I  grew  !  If  I  hadn't,  how  could  I  ever  wear  your  trou- 
sers ?  "  In  process  of  time  these  occasional  visits,  as 
escort  to  Mrs.  Barker,  expanded  into  an  attendance  of 
all  the  older  boys  (when  not  in  bed  for  moral  baking 
purposes)  upon  a  series  of  bi-monthly  soirees,  given  by 
the  remaining  Miss  Moodle,  with  a  superficial  view  to 
her  pupils'  attainment  of  ease  in  society  ;  and  a  material 


Little  Briggs  and  /.  207 

substratum  of  sandwiches,  which  Miss  Moodle  preferred 
to  see,  through  the  atmosphere  of  refinement  and  intel- 
lectuality, as  "  a  simple  repast."  To  this  was  occasion- 
ally added  a  refreshment,  which  I  have  seen  elsewhere 
only  at  Sunday-school  picnics,  —  a  mild  tap  of  slightly 
sweetened  water,  which  tasted  as  if  lemons  had  formerly 
been  kept  in  the  pail  it  was  made  in ;  —  only  for  Sun- 
day schools  they  make  it  strong  at  the  outset,  and  add 
water  during  the  hymns,  with  a  vague,  but  praise- 
worthy expectation  that,  in  view  of  the  sacredness  of 
the  occasion,  there  will  be  some  miraculous  interposi- 
tion, as  in  the  case  of  the  widow's  cruse,  to  keep  the 
beverage  up  to  proof ;  while  Miss  Moodle's  liquor  pre- 
served throughout  the  evening  a  weakness  of  which  gen- 
erous natures  scorned  to  take  advantage  beyond  the  lirst 
tumbler. 

At  this  portion  of  my  career  I  was  dawned  upon  by 
Miss  Tucker.  From  mature  years,  I  look  back  with 
a  shudder  upon  the  number  of  parchmenty  sandwiches 
which  I  ate,  the  reservoirs  of  lemony  water  which  I 
drank,  in  order  to  be  in  that  lovely  creature's  society. 
I  experienced  agonies  in  thinking  how  much  longer  it 
might  be  before  I  got  a  coat  with  tails,  when  I  calcu- 
lated how  soon  she  would  be  putting  up  her  back  hair. 
Her  eyes  were  as  blue  as  I  was  when  I  thought  she 
liked  Briggs  ;  and  she  had  a  complexion  compared  with 
which  strawberries  and  cream  were  nowhere.  When 
she  was  sent  to  the  piano,  to  show  people  what  the  Moo- 
dle system  could  do  in  the  way  of  a  musical  education, 


208  Little  Briggs  and  /. 

I  fell  into  a  cataleptic  state,  and  floated  off  upon  a  flood 
of  harmony.  Miss  Moodle  and  her  mits.  self  and  lemon 
kids,  even  the  sleepless  eye  of  Barker,  watching  for  an 
indiscretion,  upon  the  strength  of  which  he  might  defen- 
sibly  send  somebody  to  bed  the  next  Saturday  after- 
noon, all  vanished  from  before  me,  swallowed  up  in 
a  mild  glory,  which  contained  but  two  objects,  —  an  an- 
gel with  low  neck  and  short  sleeves,  and  an  insensate 
hippopotamus  of  a  piano,  which  did  not  wriggle  all  over 
with  ecstasy  when  her  white  fingers  tickled  him.  At 
such  moments,  I  would  gladly  have  gone  down  on  all 
fours,  and  had  a  key-board  mortised  into  my  side  at  any 
expense  of  personal  torture,  if  Miss  Tucker  could  only 
have  played  a  piece  on  me,  and  herself  been  conscious 
of  the  chords  she  was  awakening  inside  my  jacket.  I 
loved  her  to  that  degree  that  my  hair  never  seemed 
brushed  enough  when  I  beheld  her  ;  and  I  quite  spoiled 
the  shape  of  my  best  boots  through  an  elevation  of  the 
instep,  caused  by  putting  a  rolled-up  pair  of  stockings 
inside  each  heel,  to  approximate  the  manly  stature,  at  our 
bi-monthly  meetings.  Even  her  friend,  Miss  Crickey,  — 
a  mealy-faced  little  girl,  with  saffron  hair,  who  had  been 
pushed  by  Miss  Moodle  so  far  into  the  higher  branches, 
that  she  had  a  look  of  being  perpetually  frightened  to 
death  with  the  expectation  of  hearing  them  crack  and 
let  her  down  from  a  great  height,  —  seemed  beautiful  to 
me  from  the  mere  fact  of  daily  breathing  the  same  air 
with  such  an  angel,  sharing  her  liquorice-stick,  and  bor- 
rowing her  sweet  little  thimble. 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  20) 

I  had  other  reasons  for  prejudice  in  Miss  Crickey's  fa- 
vor'. She  was  the  only  person  to  whom  I  could  talk 
freely  regarding  the  depth  of  my  passion  for  Miss  Tucker. 
Not  even  to  the  object  of  that  tremendous  feeling  could  I 
utter  a  syllable  which  seemed  in  any  way  adequate. 
"With  an  overpowering  consciousness  how  ridiculous  it 
was,  and  not  only  so,  but  how  far  from  original,  I  could 
give  her  papers  of  lemon  Jackson-balls,  hinting  simul- 
taneously that,  though  plump  as  her  cheeks,  they  were 
not  half  so  sweet  ;  and  through  a  figure,  whose  correct 
name  I  have  since  learned  to  be  periphrasis,  I  could  sug- 
gest how  much  my  soul  yearned  to  expire  on  her  ruby 
lips,  by  asking  if  she  had  ever  played  door-keeper  ;  re- 
gretting that  the  atmosphere  of  refinement  and  intellect- 
uality did  not  admit  of  that  healthful  recreation  at 
Moodle's,  and  begging  her  to  guess  whom  I  would  call 
out  if  I  were  door-keeper  myself.  When  she  opened 
her  blue  eyes  innocently,  and  said,  "  Miss  Crickey  ?  " 
the  intimation  was  rejected  with  a  melancholy  di~ 
faction,  which  would  have  been  disdain  but  for  the  char- 
acter of  my  feelings  to  its  source.  And  when,  on  my 
pressing  her  for  the  name  of  the  favored  mortal  whom 
she  would  call  out  if  she  were  door-keeper,  she  slyly 
dropped  her  eyes  and  asked  if  Briggs  sounded  anything 
like  it,  I  savagely  refused  to  consider  the  proposition  at 
all,  and  for  the  rest  of  the  evening  ate  sandwiches  to 
that  degree  I  wonder  my  life  was  not  despaired  of,  and 
fled  for  relief  to  the  lemony  bowl.  The  result  of  this 
mad  vortex  having  been  colic  and  calomel,  after  my 
15* 


2io  Little  Briggs  and  /. 

return  to  Barker's  on  that  evening,  I  forswore  such 
dangerous  excesses  at  the  next  bi-monthly  ;  but  putting 
a  larger  pair  of  stockings  in  each  boot-heel,  to  impress 
Miss  Tucker  with  a  sense  of  what  she  had  lost,  I  de- 
voted myself  during  the  earlier  part  of  the  evening  to  a 
growing  young  woman,  of  the  name  of  "Wagstaff,  con- 
siderably older  than  myself  and  running  straight  up  and 
down  from  whatever  side  one  might  contemplate  her. 
Her  conversation  was  not  entertaining,  unless  from  the 
Chinese  point  of  view,  which,  I  understand,  distinctly 
favors  monosyllables,  and  she  giggled  at  me  so  persist- 
ently that  I  feared  Miss  Tucker  would  think  I  must  be 
making  myself  ridiculous  ;  but,  on  her  being  sent  to  the 
piano,  I  stood  and  turned  over  her  music  with  a  con- 
sciousness that  if  I  ever  looked  impressive  it  was  then. 
All  this  I  did  in  the  effort  to  seem  gay,  although  my 
heart  was  breaking.  I  had  no  comfort  on  earth  save 
the  thought  that  I  had  been  brutal  to  Briggs,  and  that 
he  sat  in  an  obscure  corner  of  the  room  among  some  lit- 
tle girls  in  Long  Division,  hiding,  behind  an  assistant 
teacher's  skirts,  the  whitey -brown  toe  which  my  blacking- 
brush  had  refused  to  refresh,  while  I  bore  my  grief  upon 
a  pair  of  new  boots  plentifully  provided  with  squeak- 
leather.  When  Miss  Tucker  slipped  a  little  piece  of  pa- 
per into  my  hand,  as  I  made  a  hollow  show  of  passing 
her  the  sandwiches,  I  came  very  near  dropping  the 
plate  ;  and  when  I  had  a  chance  to  open  it  unobserved, 
and  read  the  words,  "  Are  you  mad  with  me  ?  "  I  could 
not  occupy  my  cold  and  dreary  pinnacle  a  moment  Ion- 


Little  Briggs  and  I,  211 

ger,  but  sought  an  early  opportunity  of  squeezing  her 
hand  two  seats  behind  the  voluminous  asylum  of  Briggs's 
toes,  and  whispering,  slightly  confused  by  intensity  of 
feeling,  that  if  I  had  done  anything  I  was  sorry  for,  I 
was  willing  to  be  forgiven.  From  that  moment  I  was 
Miss  Txicker's  slave.  Oh,  woman,  woman  !  The  string 
on  which  you  play  us  is  as  long  as  life;  it  ties  your  baby- 
bib  ;  it  laces  your  queenly  bodice ;  and  on  its  slenderest 
tag  we  dangle  everywhere  ! 

The  next  term  at  both  Moodle's  and  Barker's  ran  from 
May  to  October.  The  blessed  discovery  of  long  sum- 
mer vacations  had  not  yet  dawned  upon  the  educational 
mind.  Mr.  Barker  or  Miss  Moodle  would  have  regarded 
such  a  thing  very  much  as  a  kitchen-gardener  would 
have  received  a  proposition  to  give  holiday  through  the 
warm  weather  to  his  early  cauliflowers.  What  was  the 
use  of  such  nice  long  days,  except  to  get  the  whole  of 
the  rule  for  cube  root  at  one  lesson  ?  As  for  passing  a 
Saturday  afternoon  in  bed,  what  month  could  compete 
with  July  in  its  opportunities  of  salutary  irritation  ? 
So  all  the  boys  and  girls  of  my  day,  melted  through  the 
dog-days  into  the  moulds  of  classic  eloquence,  discovered 
the  value  of  x  while  their  own  flesh  took  its  place  as  an 
unknown  quantity  ;  solved  the  square  of  the  hypothenuse 
and  the  rotundity  of  their  own  solids  with  the  same 
process,  and  exuded  on  the  other  side  of  the  French  ir- 
regular verbs  as  an  insensible  perspiration.  When  I  think 
what  we  endured,  I  am  all  the  more  set  in  my  conviction 
of  the  hypocrisy  of  autobiographies;  for  I  know  that 


212  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

no  man  could  ever  have  struggled  through  to  worldly 
eminence  in  this  day,  who  did  not  freely  play  hookey 
in  that ;  while  distinguished  piety  would  be  too  much 
strain  on  any  mature  modern  constitution  which  in  boy- 
hood had  not  relieved  itself  by  going  out  iuto  the  middle 
of  a  ten-acre  lot  for,  at  least,  a  quarterly  swear. 

When  I  returned  for  the  summer  session,  I  had  two 
comforts,  which  were  not  granted  to  every  boy  at  Bar- 
ker's —  a  kind  and  neighboring  ma  and  a  coat  with  tails. 
The  latter  in  several  newspapers,  and  a  trunk  percepti- 
bly marked  with  my  name  and  address  in  full  upon  three 
several  cards,  to  provide  against  the  contingency  of  its 
miscarriage,  which  I  coxild  not  think  of  on  the  steam- 
boat without  being  indescribably  moved,  came  with  me 
to  my  little  coop  at  Barker's.  The  former,  having  been 
recommended  by  her  physician  to  try  sea-air  during  the 
summer,  took  a  pretty  little  cottage,  with  ample  grounds 
and  a  stable,  to  which  she  brought  down  her  own  horses, 
at  a  quiet  though  favorite  watering-place,  preserving, 
after  a  deservedly  admired  usage,  its  old  romantic  In- 
dian name  of  Squash-ke-bosh.  Squash-ke-bosh  was  situ- 
ated at  a  distance  of  but  fifty  miles,  by  a  good  post 
road,  from  the  village  of  Mungerville.  It  was  considered 
by  Mr.  Barker  very  injurious  to  his  pupils'  future  pros- 
pects to  allow  them  to  see  their  parents  in  term-time. 
He  thought  it  made  them  dissatisfied  when  they  got 
back  to  school.  !N"or  was  he  far  out  of  the  way,  when 
we  consider  that  even  Buffum,  the  least  impressible  boy 
in  school,  was  moved  to  tears  whenever  he  got  a  letter 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  213 

from  his  mother,  and  made  inadequate  to  any  decent 
amount  of  Latin  grammar  for  the  rest  of  the  afternoon 
solely  by  the  reflection  of  what  a  hand  she  was  for 
chicken  pot-pies.  Nevertheless,  the  feeling  of  sym- 
pathy toward  an  invalid  for  whom  sea-air  was  recom- 
mended, and  the  thought  that  Mrs.  Barker  might  also 
like  to  become  an  invalid  of  the  same  kind  at  a  cheap 
rate  sometime  during  the  summer,  made  it  impossible 
for  Mr.  Barker  to  refuse  a  lady,  with  such  a  nice  house 
and  grounds,  the  request  that  her  darling  might  pass  an 
occasional  Sunday  with  her  and  have  a  week  for  the 
same  purpose  about  the  Fourth  of  July. 

A  boy  with  such  a  kind  ma  and  a  coat  with  tails  was 
naturally  expected  to  be  very  good  during  the  entire 
term.  It  is  astonishing  how  insufficient  basis  these  mer- 
cies proved  for  the  proper  style  of  behavior  on  my  part, 
and  when  I  now  look  back  on  what  I  went  and  did  in 
spite  of  them,  I  appreciate  the  struggles  of  the  sincere 
autobiographer  as  I  never  did  before.  I  went  and  took 
a  ride  without  asking  Barker.  Perhaps  it  was  because 
I  did  this  that  he  said, "  There's  no  use  in  granting  a  boy 
pleasures,  — if  you  give  him  an  inch  he  takes  an  ell;" 
perhaps  it  was  because  I  had  heard  him  say  it  before, 
and  reflected  that  the  witness  of  that  previous  tail-coat 
would  rise  to  bar  my  having  any  further  swing  of  wild 
hilarity,  that  I  didn't  ask  him  if  I  might 

It  was  a  bright  Saturday  in  June,  —  neither  too  cold 
nor  too  warm,  —  and  three  p.  M.  At  a  bi-monthly  dur- 
ing the  preceding  week  I  had  seen  Miss  Tucker,  and  was 


214  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

still  her  slave.  She  had  put  her  back  hair  up,  and  looked 
beautifully  presented  in  that  way  ;  but  I  thought  what 
a  contrast  there  would  have  been  to  my  existing  heaven- 
ly serenity  of  mind,  had  I  a  ma  like  some  boys'  mas 
and  a  coat  without  tails.  I  also  saw  Miss  Crickey,  who, 
having  grown  mealier  during  vacation  and  adhered  to 
the  fashion  of  queues  tied  on  her  back  with  blue  ribbons, 
looked  more  than  ever  like  a  mote  floating  in  the  ra- 
diance of  that  back  hair.  I  had  long  ago  made  up  with 
Briggs,  for  whom  I  was  now  ready  to  do  anything,  from 
the  particular  of  blacking  upward,  which  could  be  any 
comfort  to  a  person  not  the  object  of  preference  by  Miss 
Tucker.  The  singular  accident  of  his  having  known 
what  to  do  with  your  participle  in  dus,  when  you  wanted 
to  be  a  peg  more  elegant  than  was  compatible  with  your 
gerund  in  dum,  had,  on  this  particular  Saturday,  de- 
prived Mr.  Barker  of  any  pretext  for  putting  an  extra 
brown  upon  his  slack-baked  mind  in  the  oven  of  the 
dormitory;  and  an  amount  of  self-control,  arguing  rapid 
growth  toward  manhood's  worldly  astuteness,  had  pre- 
vented him  from  whistling  with  ecstasy  over  his  unusu- 
al luck  before  he  left  the  school-room,  and  being  called 
back  to  write  the  noun  descriptive  of  his  act  five  hun- 
dred times  upon  a  slate.  So  Briggs  and  I,  at  three  p.  at., 
as  aforesaid,  stood  untrammelled  by  aught  save  guilty 
fear  in  the  little  stably-smelling  pen,  shared  by  the  whips, 
ledgers,  and  buffalo-robes  of  Mr.  Greeseels,  the  livery- 
man. 
"  I  want  a  conveyance,"  I  began  boldly. 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  215 

"  In  the  nature  o'  wot  ? "  returned  Mr.  Greeseels, 
eying  us  suspiciously  from  under  a  fell  left  eyebrow, 
which  needed  the  singeing  lamp  more  than  any  hack's 
coat  in  his  stud. 

"  I  think  Mr.  Barker  prefers  a  four-seated  rockaway," 
interposed  Briggs,  with  a  prompt  acuteness,  which 
showed  that  his  tussle  with  the  gerund  in  dum  had  done 
wonders  for  his  intellectual  discipline. 

At  the  same  time  I  pulled  out  a  gold  watch,  which  my 
mother  had  given  me  during  vacation,  stated  the  time, 
and  asked  that  the  vehicle  might  be  got  ready  imme- 
diately; also,  drawing  out  a  wallet  which  contained  my 
entire  savings  for  the  term,  and  demanding  how  much  it 
would  be  for  the  whole  afternoon,  with  a  first-rate  horse 
let  him  take  notice,  turned  around  so  as  to  show  Mr. 
Greeseels  that  he  was  not  dealing  with  one  of  your  jacket 
sort  of  characters  by  any  means.  So  much  opulence', 
assurance,  and  tails  were  too  much  for  Mr.  Greeseels,  who 
succumbed  without  another  word.  In  five  minutes  the 
rockaway  and  a  big,  long-stepping  gray  stood  at  the 
mounting-block.  I  paid  the  price  in  advance,  motioned 
Briggs  to  the  back  seat,  grasped  the  reins,  jumped  up  in 
front,  and  drove  away.  To  favor  the  impression  left 
upon  the. cautious  hippodromic  mind,  yet  with  fear  and 
trembling  lest  Barker  should  meet  us,  we  kept  the  road 
toward  the  school  till  a  turn  shut  the  stables  out  of 
sight,  then  cut  down  a  side  street  to  the  retired  candy 
store,  at  which,  during  Miss  Moodle's  last  bi-monthly, 
we  had  appointed  a  clandestine  meeting  with  Miss 


216  Little  Briggs  and  /. 

Tucker  and  Miss  Crickey.  We  found  those  young  ladies 
chilling  their  consciences  with  ice-cream  in  a  back-room, 
and  quite  unable,  through  preoccupation  in  watching  for 
a  momently  possible  Miss  Moodle,  to  say  whether  it 
was  lemon  or  vanilla.  They  were  prettily  attired  in 
Marseilles  basquines  and  dresses  of  sprigged  muslin; 
and  the  novel  position  of  committing  an  impropriety 
had  imparted  an  interesting  flush  to  the  cheek  of  Miss 
Crickey,  which  I  could  not  but  observe  with  satisfaction, 
as  I  definitely  intended  her  and  Briggs  for  each  other,  — 
a  purpose  additionally  furthered  by  putting  the  two  to- 
gether on  the  back  seat.  The  direction  in  which  I 
should  drive  was  perplexed  bj*  several  harassing  condi- 
tions. Miss  Tucker  was  not  quite  sure  whether  the 
honest  peasant,  who  accommodated  Miss  Moodle  in  the 
matter  of  milk,  lived  upon  the  Pratt's  Corners  road  or 
the  Tinkerville  turnpike,  and  he  was  familiar  with  her 
beautiful  countenance,  having  sold  her  sour  buttermilk 
for  its  sunburns,  had  a  long  memory  and  a  communica- 
tive tongue.  A  day-boarder,  who  objected  to  Miss 
Crickey  from  the  fact  of  her  always  answering  first  for 
the  men  who  built  stone  walls  in  a  given  number  of 
days,  or  the  boys  who  had  apples  to  distribute  in  mental 
arithmetic,  would  probably  be  swinging  on  the  parental 
gate  all  the  afternoon,  three  miles  out  of  town  in  the  di- 
rection of  North  Jenkins ;  and  nothing  would  give  her 
greater  pleasure  than  the  solution  of  the  question,  if 
two  girls  went  out  riding,  unbeknownst,  on  Saturday, 
p.  M.,  how  many  would  get  put  on  bread  and  water  the 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  217 

next  Monday  morning.  Briggs's  step-father  had  an 
aunt  with  piles  of  money,  on  still  another  road,  but  as 
he  knew  the  boss  (such  was  his  nnfilial  expression) 
would  never  go  to  see  her  unless  she  died,  and  there 
was  no  danger  of  her  doing  that,  for  all  the  family  had 
a  way  of  hanging  on  like  thunder,  he  didn't  care  a  row 
of  pins  whether  we  took  that  road  or  not.  As  that  road 
happened  to  be  the  one  leading  to  Squash-ke-bosh,  and  I 
felt  a  natural  interest  in  seeing  how  it  looked  since  my 
mother  was  at  the  other  end  of  it,  I  decided  that  we 
should  take  it.  It  was  a  very  pleasant  one,  with  snug 
farms  and  patches  of  beech  and  oak  forest  upon  either 
hand,  enlivened  here  and  there  by  more  ambitious 
grounds,  trim  lawns  with  stately  Palladian  residences 
shining  through  bowers  of  ash,  larch,  althea,  and  smoke- 
tree  in  the  back-ground,  and  the  fermes  ornees  of  re- 
tired merchants,  who  had  a  passion  for  skipping  away 
their  hard  dollars  on  the  bottomless  pond  of  fancy  cat- 
tle-breeding. A  pretty  little  brook  kept  us  company  all 
the  way,  —  now  running  alongside  the  straight  old  turn- 
pike, now  dodging  under  it  to  come  gleefully  singing 
out  of  the  umber  bridge-shadows  on  the  other  side,  like 
a  coquettish  child  gambolling  about  the  knees  and  duck- 
ing between  the  legs  of  some  staid  ancient  gentleman. 
Everything  in  the  gift  of  bountiful  nature  was  received 
with  such  thankful  joy  by  the  four  escaped  criminals 
who  freighted  the  rockaway,  that  only  the  eye  of  an  ex- 
port in  natural  depravity,  like  Barker  or  Moodle,  could 
have  pierced  the  thick  veil  of  deception  and  gloated  on 
Ifi 


218  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

the  depths  of  iniquity  which  lay  hidden  in  the  compass 
of  the  one-horse  vehicle.  As  for  myself,  I  can  say  that 
I  was  full  of  a  fearful  happiness.  I  drove  in  a  dream 
of  bliss.  I  was  already  married  to  Miss  Tucker  ;  the 
big,  raw-boned  grey  was  my  own  team  of  thorough- 
breds ;  we  were  making  an  original  honey-moon  tour 
by  easy  stages,  stopping  at  rural  inns  over  night,  hav- 
ing our  coffee  as  strong  as  we  liked,  and  sugaring  it 
ourselves,  in  the  morning  ;  unrestricted  as  to  pancakes, 
gravy,  bedtime,  anything  ;  paying  .large  bills  with  easy 
nonchalance  out  of  an  inexhaustible  cheque-book  carried 
under  the  back-seat  ;  having  our  groom  and  bridesmaid 
behind  us  already  engaged  and  driven  to  tantalizations 
of  rapture  by  the  consummated  hymeneal  example  in 
front ;  while,  adding  an  intoxicating  zest  to  all  this 
sweetness,  like  the  spirituous  soup9on  which  tingles 
through  the  siropy  flavors  of  an  arrack  punch,  came  that 
masculine  smack  of  the  illicit  —  that  thought  of  all 
this  being  in  spite  of  the  Barker  and  the  Moodle. 
Many  a  time  since  then  have  I  trundled  behind  my  own 
two-forty  trotter  ;  but  there  was  nobody  to  stop  me, 
and  I  found  it,  oh,  how  tame  ! 

"We  came  to  a  place  where,  under  drooping  alders, 
the  little  brook  paused  in  a  quiet  pool,  like  a  frolicsome 
pilgrim,  turning  aside  and  sitting  out  of  the  noontide 
brightness  to  ponder  demurely  on  reflections  of  the 
leaves  and  sky.  Steeped  in  coolness  to  their  dewlaps, 
—  the  whole  problem  of  worldly  anxiety  reduced  to  flies, 
a  few  square  feet  of  tawny  back,  and  a  whisking  tail,  — • 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  219 

a  group  of  cattle  lifted  their  great  brown  eyes  vacantly 
toward  us,  as  we  rolled  over  the  twentieth  bridge  upon 
our  journey.  I  had  halted  the  gray  for  Miss  Tucker  to 
admire  a  lovely  little  calf,  with  a  white  star  on  his  fore- 
head, and  the  most  incapable  legs  ever  vouchsafed  an 
immature  vertebrate.  On  her  expressing  a  wish  that 
she  had  him,  I  was  submitting  to  my  mind  the  insane 
proposition  whether  it  would  not  be  possible  to  tie  his 
legs  with  a  pocket-handkerchief,  carry  him  back  with  us 
between  the  seats,  and  get  Briggs  to  help  me  build  a 
cage  for  him,  that  he  might  be  hung  up  in  Miss  Tucker's 
room,  when  the  sound  of  rolling  wheels  behind  us  waked 
me  from  my  trance,  and,  looking  back,  I  beheld  Barker 
and  Mrs.  Barker,  Boens  the  mathematical  teacher,  and 
Miss  Moodle,  coming  on  in  a  rockaway  like  unto  our 
own. 

A  dreadful  moment !  The  eye  of  Barker  had  marked 
me;  the  voice  of  Barker  was  already  calling  on  me  to 
stop.  I  simply  gasped  his  name,  when  Miss  Tucker 
uttered  a  piteous  little  cry  like  a  wounded  fawn.  I 
added  that  of  Moodle;  she  hid  her  face  in  my  bosom, 
and  I  was  strong.  The  entire  force  of  my  character 
came  to  a  point  at  the  end  of  my  whip.  The  gray 
struck  out  manfully  ;  and,  looking  through  the  back- 
glass,  Briggs  reported  that  the  old  'un  was  a  going  it 
likewise.  Miss  Crickey,  having  a  mathematical  mind, 
became  our  strong  pillar  of  consolation,  —  first  suggest- 
ing to  us  the  thought  if  four  grown  people  behind  Bar- 
ker's fat  marc  could  go  a  certain  distance  in  a  given 


220  Little  Briggs  and  /. 

time,  how  far  could  as  many  light  weights  go,  with  our 
gray,  in  the  same  time  ?  I  do  not  recollect  that  I  analyzed 
the  problem  according  to  the  method  of  Colburn;  but 
what  I  do  know  is,  that  it  gave  me  the  only  comfort  I 
ever  got  out  of  mental  arithmetic.  The  voice  of  Barker 
grew  fainter  and  fainter,  and  at  last  died  away  like  some 
spectral  echo  of  the  dead  schoolmasters  who  flogged 
mankind  in  the  days  of  the  Seleucidse;  then  sank  to 
nothing,  as  their  remorseful  cries  have  gone  down  into 
hades  and  oblivion.  Looking  back  from  the  top  of 
every  hill,  we  could  still  see  Barker  pressing  on.  But 
a  stern-chase  is  a  long  chase;  weight  and  age  were 
both  against  him;  and,  at  every  view,  fat  Kitty  showed 
increasing  bellows  to  mend.  At  length,  going  up  a 
long  rise,  Briggs  reported  from  the  rear  that  the  enemy 
had  abandoned  pursuit;  and,  for  the  first  time  venturing 
to  look  out,  I  beheld  him,  at  the  distance  of  half  a  mile 
turn  Kitty's  head  and  start  for  home.  It  was  before 
the  day  of  universal  telegraphs,  or  he  would  have  been 
abundantly  adequate  to  set  the  rural  police  on  us 
throughout  the  county;  there  was  no  railway  communi- 
cation in  the  direction  we  were  travelling,  or  he  would 
not  have  hesitated  a  moment  to  hire  a  special  engine  for 
our  capture,  and  charge  it  on  my  ma's  quarterly  bill. 
"What  he  might  do  was  to  return,  and,  selecting  the 
fleetest  courser  in  Mungerville,  resume  the  scent  in  the 
saddle  or  a  sulky.  There  was  no  time  to  lose.  With- 
out thinking  whither  we  went,  I  pressed  the  big  gray, 
until  a  solemn-faced  stone  at  the  wayside  warned  us 


Little  Briggs  and  /.  221 

that  \ve  had  strayed  a  distance  of  sixteen  miles  from 
the  refining  and  intellectual  atmosphere  of  Hoodie's. 
Miss  Tucker  was  sobbing  bitterly.  Briggs,  plunged  in 
gloom  and  his  own  pockets  to  the  elbow,  was  uttering 
grim  reflections  upon  the  liveliness  of  a  future  eternity 
of  Saturdays  in  bed.  I  was  suffering  agonies  of  remorse 
at  the  misery  in  which  I  had  involved  the  lovely  and 
uncomplaining  but  heart-broken  creature  at  my  side- 
Miss  Crickey  alone  was  calm.  Retiring  into  the  fast- 
nesses of  a  mind  strengthened  by  the  compound  frac- 
tions, and,  unlike  Miss  Tucker,  having  no  back  hair 
to  come  down  in  the  distraction  of  the  exigenc}r,  she 
was  something  to  admire,  and  I  could  not  but  hope 
that  Briggs  would  do  it.  She  never  uttered  a  syllable 
until  that  youth  ungenerously  threw  the  whole  respon- 
sibility upon  me  by  saying, — 

••  \Vell,  here's  a  pickle  !  Now  what  do  you  mean  to 
do?" 

Before  I  could  reply,  Miss  Crickey  returned  from  her 
fastnesses  to  the  actual  situation  with  the  words,  — 

"  1  think  Mr.  Thirlwall  once  remarked  that  he  had  a 
ma  living  at  Squash-ke-bosh.  This  is  the  road  to 
Squash-ke-bosh.  Sixteen  from  fifty  leaves  thirty-four 
miles.  Let  us  go  and  throw  ourselves  upon  the  compas- 
sion of  Mr.  ThirlwalUs  ma." 

Miss  Tucker  looked  up  radiantly,  bid  farewell  to  every 
fear,  and  wiped  her  weeping  eyes. 

''  That  was  the  way  George-  Washington  did,"  said 
Miss  Tucker,  in  a  moist  voice,  "  the  time  he  had  been 

and  done  it  with  his  little  hatchet" 
16* 


222  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

"He  had  immediate  recourse  to  his  pa,"  said  Miss 
Crickey,  supplying  the  exact  details  with  a  commend- 
able desire  for  historic  accuracy. 

"  And  a  ma's  a  darned  sight  better  than  a  pa,"  quoted 
Briggs  from  the  stores  of  his  own  experience. 

I  myself  could  think  of  nothing  better  to  do  than  Miss 
Crickey  proposed  ;  for  I  would  as  soon,  under  the  cir- 
cumstances, have  changed  places  with  Eegulus,  and 
gone  back  to  Carthage  for  a  ride  down  hill  in  a  nail-keg, 
as  to  have  returned  to  Barker's  and  Moodle's.  Fortu- 
nately, just  after  sunset,  there  came  up  a  heavy  thun- 
der-shower, which  gave  us  an  excuse  for  turning  a  mile 
down  a  cross-road,  and  taking  shelter  for  the  night  in 
a  farm-house,  where  we  were  hospitably  taken  care  of 
in  the  character  of  a  family  of  cousins,  on  their  way  to 
visit  an  aunt;  had  a  splendid  time  eating  strawberries 
and  cream,  and  realized  the  long  ideal  ecstasy  of  "  door- 
keeper." Memory  still  chronicles,  with  a  thrill,  that 
under  that  humble  roof  I  kissed  Miss  Tucker  for  the 
first  time.  Avaunt,  thou  spectral  recollection,  that 
Briggs  similarly  improved  the  opportunity  ! 

The  big  gray,  having  been  equally  refreshed,  after  his 
fashion,  took  us  cleverly  into  Squash-ke-bosh  by  one 
o'clock  the  next  afternoon.  As  my  ma  was  a  new- 
comer to  that  pleasant  seaport,  I  expected  considerable 
trouble  in  finding  her  cottage  ;  but  was  saved  that  by 
the  occurrence  of  another  awkwardness,  —  meeting  her 
just  as  she  came  out  of  church,  upon  the  principal  street, 
and  startling  her,  by  my  apparition,  to  that  degree  she 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  223 

dropped  her  handsome  prayer-book  and  forgot  whether 
the  text  had  been  in  Revelation  or  Job.  Explanation 
being  impossible,  where  people  discuss  a  subject  from 
such  different  grounds  as  a  rockaway  and  the  sidewalk, 
I  took  her  up  on  the  front  seat  with  Miss  Tucker,  and 
gave  her  a  sketch  of  our  recent  adventures,  in  that  spirit 
of  frankness  which  characterized  the  before-cited  mem- 
orable interview  between  Mr.  Bushrod  Washington  and 
his  boy  G.  The  grandfather  of  his  country  could  not  be 
more  lenient  than  was  that  dear  mother.  Her  chiding 
was  of  the  gentlest ;  tears  and  laughter  contended  for 
the  possession  of  her  eyes  ;  when  she  got  us  into  the 
house  she  took  us  all  literally  to  her  heart  and  kissed  us, 
beginning  with  me,  and  promised  us  an  asylum  until 
mediation  could  let  us  down  easily  into  the  stern  "but 
placated  bosoms  of  Barker  and  Moodle.  The  ensuing 
evening  she  spent  in  writing  letters  to  those  authorities, 
and  to  the  mammas  of  my  three  fellow-convicts. 

Monday  and  Tuesday  must  necessarily  pass  before 
she  could  receive  any  reply  to  the  Barker  and  Moodle 
letters,  which  went  out  by  the  early  stage  on  Monday 
morning.  The  big  gray  was  sent  back  in  charge  of  a 
trusty  messenger,  who  also  bore  behind  him  in  the  rock- 
away  two  hampers  of  choice  hot-house  fruit  as  a  pro- 
pitiatory offering  to  the  offended  Moloch  of  education. 
While  we  were  waiting,  the  hours  passed  in  a  perfect 
trance  of  delight.  "We  played  every  game  of  which  hu- 
man ingenuity  is  capable.  We  bathed  in  the  surf  and 
we  boated  on  the  bay.  We  drove  out  in  the  carriage 


224  Little  Briggs  and  /. 

with  my  mother  to  visit  a  Hanging  Rock,  and  a  Lover 'a 
Leap.  When  Miss  Crickey  said  that  the  former  was  in 
only  apparent  danger  of  falling  because  a  line  drawn 
through  its  centre  of  gravity  would  not  strike  outside 
the  base,  I  was  pained  to  see  Briggs  manifest  less  ad- 
miration at  the  statement  than  its  scientific  accuracy  de- 
served, and  regretted  that  he  could  not  experience  those 
emotions  which  thrilled  my  bosom  when,  standing  on  the 
edge  of  the  latter,  I  imagined  Moodle  and  Barker 
coming  up  behind  to  tear  Miss  Tucker  from  my  arms, 
put  my  arms  tenderly  around  her  waist,  and  calculated 
the  distance  between  us  and  the  fathomless  deep.  My 
mother's  sympathy  for  Briggs  was  of  a  nature  which 
constantly  affected  him  to  tears.  She  had  heard  of  his 
family  circumstances  from  me,  and  took  extra  pains  to 
show  him  those  delicate  little  attentions  which  are  so 
missed  by  the  homeless  boy.  If  she  drew  him  caress- 
ingly to  her  side,  or  gaye  him  a  particularly  large  slice  of 
marmalade  at  lunch,  he  was  certain  to  be  missing  al- 
most immediately  after,  and  to  turn  up  in  some  unex- 
pected corner  violently  blowing  his  nose. 

On  Wednesday  afternoon  we  received  our  replies  from 
Mr.  Barker  and  Miss  Moodle,  couched  very  much  in  such 
terms  as  might  be  expected  from  a  pair  of  Turkish 
pashas  sparing  the  lives  of  a  batch  of  political  offenders 
at  the  intercession  of  some  powerful  foreign  government. 
Briggs  alone  was  made  an  exception  to  the  amnesty. 
With  a  terseness  which  left  so  much  for  the  imagination 
as  to  prove  that  Mr.  Barker  would  have  achieved  great 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  225 

eminence  in  dramatic  literature  had  he  chosen  that  ca- 
reer, the  letter  said  that  Master  Briggs'  case  was  now 
under  consideration  of  his  pa,  who  would  doubtless  act 
wisely  under  the  circumstances,  and  needed  no  sugges- 
tions from  the  writer. 

About  an  hour  after  the  letters  came,  while  we  sat  in 
the  parlor  in  deep  gloom,  discussing  the  honorableness 
of  going  back  to  Mungerville  without  Briggs,  the  maid 
brought  in  a  card  to  my  mother's  sitting-room  from  a 
gentleman  in  the  front  parlor. 

"Lard  and  bacon  !  Pork  packed  and  shipped!"  ex- 
claimed my  mother.  "  He  really  can't  think  I  deal  in 
any  such  articles.  Do  you  know  any  such  name  as  that, 
Ben  ?  " 

I  glanced  at  the  card,  and  my  involuntary  exclama- 
tion of  "  By  jingo  !  "  brought  Briggs  to  my  side.  "  T. 
Mixer!  O  Lord  !  "  said  the  poor  boy  ;  and  with  some- 
thing very  like  a  howl  of  anguish,  he  jumped  out  of  the 
back  window  to  the  verandah  and  fled  into  the  shrub- 
bery. 

"  Go  you  after  him,  Ben,"  spoke  my  mother.  "  I'm 
afraid  he'll  run  away  to  sea.  Tell  him  Tm  going  in  to 
see  Mr.  Mixer,  and  comfort  him."  My  mother's  man- 
ner prevented  any  misconstruction  of  the  equivoque.  It 
was  plain  enough  that  she  was  not  going  in  to  be  any 
comfort  to  Mixer,  and  I  gladly  rushed  out  to  do  that 
office  for  Briggs.  I  found  him  in  the  hay-loft,  leaning 
against  a  stringer,  and  apparently  trying  to  kick  all  the 


226  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

pegs  out  of  his  left  heel,  which  in  moments  of  despera- 
tion was  his  favorite  method  of  making  np  his  mind.  . 

"  You  see  that  beam  ?  "  asked  Briggs,  huskily. 

"  Yes  !  what  of  that  ?  "  said  I. 

"  Has  your  ma  got  a  spare  clothes-line,  —  a  strong  one, 
—  one  she  wont  want  to  use  till  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so ;  but  what  do  you  want  of  that  now  ?  " 

"  Just  get  it  for  me,  will  you,  please,  then  leave  me 
alone  for  a  few  minutes.  If  anything  happens  before 
you  come  back,  cut  a  lock  of  hair  off  the  back  of  my 
head  ;  that's  where  my  mother  —  used  —  to  be  — 
fondest  of  brushing  —  it;  it  don't  stick  out  so  stiff  as 
it  does  in  front.  Tell  her  I  didn't  blame  her  ;  enclose  it 
in  a  little  note,  and  say — I  —  I  —  I  loved  her  to  the 
last."  Here  his  voice  choked  with  emotion  ;  he  buried 
his  face  in  a  bale  of  hay  and  groaned  aloud. 

I  threw  myself  upon  Briggs's  neck,  combed  the  hay- 
seed out  of  his  hair,  and  besought  him  to  weigh  the  mat- 
ter well  before  he  hanged  himself.  I  implored  him  to 
remember  what  nice  times  we  might  have  gathering 
chestnuts  in  the  fall;  to  think  of  his  mother  (he  shut 
his  eyes  doggedly)  —  of  me  (he  did  not  stir)  —  of  Miss 
Crickey  (he  made  a  perceptible  sign  of  disdain)  —  of  — 
of —  I  hesitated  but  a  moment  and  added,  "  Miss  Tucker." 
A  pang  shot  through  me,  though  I  did  not  wish  him  to 
hang  himself,  when  I  beheld  a  remarkable  change  come 
over  him  at  the  mention  of  that  lovely  name.  He  shut 
his  teeth,  clenched  his  fists,  shook  himself  like  a  New- 
foundland, and  stood  up  to  his  full  stature  of  five  feet 


Little  Briggs  and  /.  227 

seven.  It  was  undeniable  that  Briggs  was  a  very  stout, 
manly  looking  boy. 

"  Well,"  said  he,  grimly,  after  a  moment's  reflection, 
"  there's  one  thing  I  can  do.  I  can  go  off  to  China,  and 
come  back,  when  I'm  a  man,  with  a  cargo  of  silks  and 
teas." 

"  Be  a  man  now,  Briggs,"  said  I,  encouragingly; 
"  let's  go  out  and  walk  in  the  air  ;  you'll  feel  better  for 
it.  Bless  me  !  Don't  you  suppose  we'll  stand  by  you, 
old  fellow  ?  " 

We  were  wandering,  arm  in  arm,  toward  a  rustic  sum- 
mer-house in  the  back-grounds,  when  we  perceived  my 
mother  coming  down  the  gravel  walk  from  the  verandah, 
accompanied  by  a  stranger,  whom  it  was  not  difficult  to 
divine  as  Mixer.  The  problem  of  his  objection  to 
Briggs's  growth  was  solved  immediately,  for  nature  had 
been  a  stern  creditor  with  him  in  the  matter  of  legs,  and 
after  letting  them  run  for  the  first  twelve  years  of  his 
life,  inexorably  refused  him  any  further  extension,  so  that 
he  was  scarcely,  if  any,  taller  than  Briggs  was  when  I 
lirst  knew  him.  He  had  a  small,  lumpy  head,  with 
strands  of  a  peculiar  greenish-brown  shade  of  hair  plas- 
tered on  it  at  wide  intervals,  like  ribbons  of  half-dry  sea- 
weed ;  a  diffused  slippery  nose,  that  looked  as  if  it  had 
been  boned  and  larded  as  some  fearful  delicacy,  and  a 
flat,  doughy  face  shoved  under  it  to  serve  for  bottom 
crust.  His  thin,  vulgarly  cut  lips  wore  an  expression 
of  pert  criticism,  which  might  have  sprung  from  the 
habit  of  testing  Iho  strength  of  pork-brine,  and  his  red- 


228  Little  Briggs  and  /. 

dish-brown  eyes  had  all  the  mean  truculence  of  a  snap- 
ping cur's. 

Briggs  turned  deadly  pale  when  he  saw  him,  but  kept 
on  his  way  toward  him. 

"Mr.  Mixer  wished  to  walk  out  and  look  for  you," 
said  my  mother,  in  a  voice  where  kindness  ^to  Briggs 
struggled  with  poorly-concealed  disgust  for  the  abject  at 
her  side. 

"  Yes,"  spoke  Mixer,  with  a  smack  of  malignant  sat- 
isfaction ;  "  yes-s-s  ;  happening  through  this  flourish- 
ing seaport  on  business,  and  accidentally  having  heard 
from  Mr.  Barker,  with  whom  I  chanced  to  spend  last 
evening,  that  a  young  friend  of  mine  was  passing  the 
summer  here  very  pleasantly,  I  naturally  felt  a  desire  to 
call  and  see  how  he  was  getting  on  ;  also,  to  see  if  there 
was  anything  I  could  do  for  him.  And  I  think  —  very 
decidedly  —  I  think  there  is.  Your  son,  ma'am,  I  sup- 
pose "  (turning  his  hang-dog  eyes  from  Briggs  to  me), 
—  "  and  a  nice  boy  he  is  —  yes-s-s,  really,  a  very  nice 
boy.  Master  Briggs,  if  this  lady  and  your  agreeable 
young  friend  will  excuse  us,  suppose  you  oblige  me 
with  a  few  moments'  conversation  in  the  shrubbery  ?  " 

Briggs's  lip  quivered  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  said, 
"  Well."  "  We  shan't  go  far,"  he  added  to  me,  with  a 
most  expressive  glance,  that  meant  that  my  mother  and 
I  should  not.  We  understood  him,  and,  as  he  strolled  off 
toward  the  stables  again  with  Mixer  by  his  side,  kept  out 
of  sight,  but  conveniently  near  to  afford  him  the  sense 
of  our  moral  support.  At  first  we  could  hear  nothing 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  229 

but  the  shrill  hiss  of  Mixer's  satirical  affirmatives, 
answering  every  quiet,  low-voiced  explanation  which 
Briggs  made/  Presently,  however,  Briggs's  key  rose, 
and  he  was  quite  audible  when  he  told  Mixer  that  he  had 
bullied  his  mother  almost  into  her  grave,  and  was  trying 
to  shove  her  son  in  after  her.  "  But  you  shan't  ! " 
added  Briggs,  "  you  shan't  !  and  she  shouldn't  stay  with 
you  another  day  if  I  were  only  a  man  and  had  any  place 
to  take  her  to/' 

"  So  ho  I "  replied  T.  Mixer,  unconsciously  speaking 
louder,  but  still  in  a  tone  of  satanic  coolness.  "  Mr. 
Barker  has  failed  with  you  too,  has  he  ?  You  have  a 
pi'c-uliurly  depraved  and  stiff-necked  nature,  young  man, 
but  we'll  make  one  more  effort  to  save  you.  You  can 
take  that  jacket  oil",  and  be  quick  about  it,  too." 

They  had  come  to  a  pause  under  a  big  linden,  and  foi 
a  moment  Briggs  stood  irresolutely,  eying  his  step- 
father. 

"Come" — do  you  hear  me  V  —  off  with  that  jacket  I'' 
repeated  Mixer,  and  at  the  same  time  passing  his  hand 
inside  a  loose  travelling-sack  which  he  wore,  produced  a 
stout,  red  raw-hide  about  three  feet  long. 

"  Damn  the  brute  !  "  said  I,  involuntarily,  and  my 
mother  did  not  check  me,  for  the  blood  was  mounting 
into  her  gentle  face  till  it  crimsoned  her  very  temples; 
and  the  next  instant,  dashing  her  garden-llat  to  the 
greensward,  she  burst  from  behind  the  shrubbery,  and 
made  her  way  toward  Mixer  at  a  pace  which  looked 
either  very  unlike  an  invalid  for  whom  sea-air  had  been 
17 


230  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

recommended,  or  like  one  to  whom  the  prescription  had 
been  remarkably  salutary.  Before  she  reached  him,  the 
cowhide  had  descended  once  upon  the  head  of  Briggs, 
and  made  two  angry  red  wales  across  his  upheld  hands. 

"  Give  me  that  whip,  sir,"  said  my  mother,  between  her 
clenched  teeth. 

Mixer  cast  at  her  one  look  of  savage  amazement,  then 
lifted  the  raw-hide  again. 

'"  Give  me  that  whip,"  repeated  my  mother,  in  a  still 
lower  tone  ;  her  brows  coming  down  to  a  point  over 
eyes  which  pierced  Mixer  through.  The  cur  dropped 
his  hand,  and  unresistingly  suffered  my  mother  to  take 
the  rod  out  of  it.  She  flung  it  out  into  the  tall  grass  as 
far  as  she  could  throw;  then  with  flashing  eyes  ad- 
dressed Briggs, — 

"I  don't  want  you  to  hurt  this  —  man  —  you  know; 
but  you  can  turn  him  out  of  my  premises  just  as  soon  as 
you  like.  You're  a  good  stout  boy,  and  you  might 
make  mincemeat  of  him,  if  you  put  out  3*0111-  strength; 
so  don't  knock  him  down,  or  pound  him,  or  anything 
of  that  sort.  I  leave  him  to  you  ;  be  careful  of  him.'' 

"  Now's  the  time  to  oblige  him  !  "  I  cried.  "  Off  with 
your  coat,  Briggs  !  " 

So  saying,  I%was  about  to  come  in  for  my  share  of  the 
fun,  but  Briggs  stopped  me. 

"  Xo,  no,  Ben  !  Two  to  one's  not  fair  play  ;  besides, 
he's  up  to  having  you  put  in  the  lock-up  for  assault  and 
battery,  and  calling  your  own  mother  to  swear  on  you; 
I'm  able  for  him  alone  1  c;ue.ss." 


Little  Briggs  and  /.  231 

With  these  words  Briggs  let  fly  a  neat  left-hander,  and 
threw  his  shoulder  after  it,  bringing  up  against  his  sub- 
stitute for  a  parent  in  the  region  just  above  the  cravat- 
tie.  Mr.  Mixer  went  in  pursuit  of  his  balance  spirally 
for  a  few  yards,  and,  failing  to  overtake  it,  sat  suddenly 
down.  The  distance  between  his  sedentary  and  upright 
posture  was  not  so  great  as  in  the  case  of  a  person  more 
liberally  blessed  with  legs;  but  even  this  little  he  was 
unable  to  make  up  before  "Brigg-s  was  once  more  upon 
him.  Catching  his  ancient  tyrant  by  the  collar  with  his 
left  hand,  and  taking  as  firm  a  hold  of  his  nose  as  that 
broad  and  slippery  member  admitted  of,  with  his  left,  he 
elevated  him  to  his  feet,  and  asked  him  which  side  he 
should  let  go  of,  back  or  front;  "for  out  you  go  one 
way  or  t'other,  you  know,"  added  Briggs,  considerate- 
ly, "  and  you  can  take  your  choice ;  so  say  now  —  push 
or  pull  ?  " 

T.  Mixer,  thoroughly  cowed,  began  whining  that  he 
preferred  to  have  his  nose  let  go  of,  but  added,  in  a  na- 
sal voice,  which  marred  the  moral  dignity  of  the  senti- 
ment, that  he  hoped  that  Briggs  would  "  rebebber  his 
lilial  duty,  if  it  was  odly  for  his  Ba's  sake." 

"  Don't  you  talk  to  me  of  my  mar  you  sneak  ! "  roared 
Briggs,  giving  the  nose  one  final  tweak  before  he  aban- 
doned it;  "don't  you  dare  to  mention  her,  jrou  hypo- 
crite !  "  he  repeated,  shaking  Mixer  as  a  terrier  would 
•shak*'  a  rat,  -unless  you  want  to  sit  on  the  ground 
again  without  anything  to  put  your  feet  on  I  "  Then, 
propelling  him  before  him  by  the  nape  of  (he  neck  as 


232  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

fast  as  his  legs  would  carry  him,  Briggs  trundled  the  de- 
throned despot  to  the  front  gate,  and,  while  I  held  it  open 
for  him,  dismissed  Mr.  Mixer  into  the  outer  world  with 
a  parting  kick,  which  sent  him  half-way  across  the  road. 
For  a  moment  he  turned  round  and  showed  symptoms 
of  relieving  himself  in  a  torrent  of  abuse;  but,  seeing 
his  castigator  ready  to  perfect  his  lesson,  contented 
himself  with  shaking  his  fist,  and  departed  down  the 
road  toward  Squash-ke-bosh."  Briggs  returned  silently 
from  the  gate,  and,  sitting  down  on  a  rustic  seat  in  the 
grounds,  gave  way  to  the  reaction  of  his  feelings.  He 
struggled  bravely  to  repress  his  excitement;  but  as 
he  buried  his  face  in  his  hands,  the  words  came  out 
sobbingly,  — 

"  And  now  —  I'm  all — a-a-alone  in  the  world." 

My  mother  came  out  of  the  shrubbery  behind  him, 
stole  one  arm  tenderly  around  his  neck,  and  said,  — 

"No,  you  aren't,  my  child;  if  this  has  lost  you  all 
the  home  you  had,  you  can  have  your  share  of  Ben's." 

So  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  was,  that  Briggs 
spent  all  his  vacations  after  that  under  my  mother's 
roof ;  and  as  for  his  school-days,  she  herself  personally 
saw  to  the  arrangement  by  which  he  was  received  back 
at  Barker's.  T.  Mixer,  upon  reflection,  concluded  that  he 
would  do  himself  no  credit  by  appearing  further  on  the 
scene. 

My  history  here  makes  a  Hanlon  Brothers'  leap 
across  the  chasm  of  seven  years.  Briggs  had  thrown 
away  all  his  early  experience  of  self-denial  by  refusing 


Little  Briggs  and  I,  233 

to  go  out  as  a  missionary,  and  accepting  a  confidential 
position  in  the  Wall-street  house,  of  which  I  was  junior 
partner.  We  occupied  a  suite  of  rooms  together  in  Clin- 
ton Place,  and  Miss  Tucker,  now  a  belle  in  society,  was 
at  home  with  her  parents,  a  few  blocks  above  us  on  the 
avenue.  Miss*  Crickey  had  married  a  widower,  and 
having  a  large  capital  of  ready-made  children  to  start 
the  mental  arithmetic  business  with,  had  gone  to  Ger- 
many to  consult  the  newest  lights  of  education.  My 
mother's  attachment  to  the  old  homestead  where  my 
father  had  first  brought  her,  kept  her  from  selling  the 
place  and  she  stayed  there  during  the  greater  part  of 
the  year,  I  spending  all  the  time  with  her  that  I  could 
spare  from  my  business  in  summer,  and  promising  my- 
eelf  the  pleasure  of  having  her  under  my  own  roof  dur- 
ing the  winter,  as  soon  as  I  could  get  married  and  keep 
house.  How  soon  that  might  be  was  very  uncertain.  I 
was  of  a  singularly  constant  nature,  and  still  Miss  Tuck- 
er's slave.  My  mother's  letter  to  her  ma.  written  on  her 
behalf  when  she  eloped  with  me  from  Moodle's,  had  led 
to  an  intimate  acquaintance  between  the  families,  and 
now,  living  in  New  York,  I  visited  her  one  and  often 
two  evenings  in  the  week.  Briggs's  friendship  was  no 
less  sedulous,  and  I  spared  myself  the  possibility  of 
pain  by  refraining  from  the  inquiry  how  much  deeper 
feeling  he  entertained  toward  the  object  of  1113'  adoration. 
I  knew  that  this  state  of  uncertainty  could  not  last  al- 
ways. I  felt  a  daily  increasing  reticence  toward  my  old 
school-mate,  and  saw  that  if  something  definite  wen-  not 
17* 


234  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

done  soon,  an  incurable  jealousy  and  coolness  would  be 
established  between  us.  For  the  sake  of  our  intimacy, 
to  say  nothing  of  my  own  peace  of  mind,  I  must  bring 
matters  to  a  decision  by  speaking  definitely  to  Miss 
Tucker.  The  result  might  be  as  painful  as  an  heroic 
surgical  operation  to  either  Briggs  or  myself;  but  it 
would  stop  the  gangrene  of  our  friendship. 

I  came  to  this  conclusion  one  evening  when  Briggs 
had  gone  up  to  call  on  Miss  Tucker,  and  I  sat  by  a 
small  sea-coal  fire  (for,  though  spring,  the  weather  was 
still  chilly)  smoking  my  cigar  at  eleven  o'clock,  and 
wondering  how  in  the  world  any  man  could  have  the 
thoughtlessness  to  keep  a  private  family  up  till  that 
hour.  It  must  have  been  still  later  when  he  left  the 
Tuckers,  for  he  did  not  get  back  to  our  lodgings  until 
twelve.  "When  he  did  come,  he  kicked  off  his  boots  as 
soon  as  he  entered  our  parlor,  and  went  to  his  bedroom 
without  saying  a  word  beyond  good-night. 

The  next  afternoon,  as  Briggs  stood  by  a  desk  at  the 
window,  deep  in  some  abstruse  stock  calculation,  and  I 
sat  before  the  office-grate  reading  business  letters  just 
brought  in  by  the  mailrboy,  we  heard  the  whole  street 
thrown  into  an  uproar  outside  us,  by  the  sonorous  cry  of 
"  Extra  I "  Partners,  clerks,  and  loungers  ran  to  the 
door  at  once,  to  discover  that  History  had  opened  her 
iron  account-book  with  the  nation,  and  made  her  first 
entry  in  the  fall  of  Sumter.  That  revelation  closed 
our  own  trivial  business  for  the  day.  The  next  day's 
wild  excitement,  slowly  but  surely  settling  into  the 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  235 

strength  of  inexorable  loyal  purpose,  who  needs  that  I 
recall  ?  Briggs  was  absent  from  his  desk,  but  I  never 
noticed  the  fact  till  it  was  time  for  me  to  go  up  town. 
Just  then  he  entered  the  office.  If  his  conduct  was 
strange  to  me  on  the  night  of  his  last  return  from  the 
Tuckers,  it  was  stranger  now.  lie  vouchsafed  me  noth- 
ing but  a  cold  nod,  then  entered  into  animated  conversa- 
tion with  a  knot  of  business  men  who  were  discussing 
the  great  question  of  the  day  in  our  back  office.  Hav- 
ing fifteen  minutes  to  spare,  I  presently  joined  them. 
The  talk  ran  upon  volunteering.  Several,  who  already 
belonged  to  municipal  organizations,  expressed  their  in- 
tention of  sharing  the  fight,  and  one  of  them  suddenly 
turned  to  me  with  the  question,  — 

"  Are  you  going  ?  " 

I  thought  of  the  hostage  I  might  be  leaving  to  For- 
tune, in  the  person  of  Miss  Tucker,  and  hesitatingly  re- 
plied that  there  seemed  to  be  plenty  going  for  the 
pivM-nt  without  me,  and  I  didn't  know. 

Briggs  said,  as  if  speaking,  incidentally  to  a  third 
person,  that  there  were  also  plenty  of  cowards  staying 
behind. 

Our  old  jealousies  culminated  in  an  instant.  "  Do  you 
mean  to  apply  that  term  to  me  ?  "  I  asked,  fiercely,  with 
my  cheeks  crimson. 

"If  the  shoe  fits,  wear  it."  answered  Briggs.  noncha- 
lantly. The  kind  of  autobiography  that  I  write  compels 
me  to  own  that  I  struck  him.  I  was  sorry  for  the  act 
the  moment  after.  I  ought  to  have  been  patient  with 


236  Little  Briggs  and  /. 

him  and  made  allowance  for  some  hidden  source  of  irrita- 
tion. I  ought  not  to  have  given  serious  weight  to  a 
sneer  which  I  was  conscious  of  not  deserving,  and  of 
which  I  might  know  that  another  mood  would  make  him 
ashamed.  But  these  thoughts  only  came  with  the  re- 
action from  my  anger,  and  the  blow  was  struck. 

Briggs  turned  on  me  at  once,  but  some  of  the  others 
jumped  between  us  to  prevent  a  fight,  telling  him  that 
he  had  given  the  first  offence,  and  trying  to  persuade 
him  to  walk  away  soberly.  I  returned  into  the  front 
office,  and  tried  to  absorb  myself  in  the  afternoon 
news,  that  I  might  get  quiet  enough  to  walk  up  town, 
but  my  heart  was  too  full.  I  thought  of  Briggs's  un- 
happy boyhood,  of  the  many  hard  and  happy  times  we 
had  been  through  together,  of  the  almost  brotherly  re- 
lations which  had  so  long  existed  between  us,  of  the 
rivalry  which  had  been  disturbing  them,  and  of  the 
bitterness  of  spirit  which  he  must  have  endured  in 
silence  before  he  could  become  so  changed  toward  me. 
The  current  of  my  reflections  was  suddenly  broken  by 
the  entrance  of  Briggs,  the  other  gentlemen  following 
him. 

"  Ben,'5  said  he,  addressing  me  in  a  husky  voice,  "  you 
might  have  known  me  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  I 
didn't  mean  to  call  you  a  coward;  and  yet"  —  his 
voice  trembled  so  he  could  scarcely  speak  —  "and  yet, 
you  struck  me  —  struck  me  in  the  face.  You  know  the 
way  we  look  upon  those  insults,  —  they're  things  to  be 
atoned  for;  and  if  you  were  not  who  you  are,  and  we 


Little  Briggs  and  /.  237 

what  we've  been  to  each  other.  I'd  call  you  out  to- 
morrow. But  this  is  a  time  which  forbids  men  to  throw 
away  their  blood  on  private  quarrels;  so  I  challenge 
you  another  way,  —  I  challenge  you  to  go  with  me  into 
the  fight  for  our  country.  .  There  is  a  meeting  at  eight 
o'clock  to-night  at  Ealston  and  Crosby's  warehouse,  of 
young  men  who  wish  to  organize  a  volunteer  regiment 
for  immediate  service  under  Colonel  Crosby.  I  shall  be 
there  to  enroll  myself.  Will  you  accept  ?  ?' 

I  looked  into  his  face  for  a  moment,  and  then  answered 
"  I  will." 

I  kept  my  word,  and  left  the  warehouse  at  nine  that 
evening  a  member  of  the  Crosby  regiment.  From  that 
place,  I  rode  at  once  to  the  residence  of  Mr.  Tucker.  I 
stayed  longer  there  than  I  had  at  the  warehouse,  and  on 
coming  away  was  member  of  still  another  organization, 
—  an  organization  of  two.  A  fortnight  afterward , 
Briggs  and  I  were  on  our  way  to  Washington. 

. \irain  my  autobiography  makes  a  leap.  The  regi- 
ment had  several  times  seen  active  service.  Briggs  and 
I  had  risen  to  the  captaincies  of  our  several  companies. 
On  the  eleventh  day  of  December,  1862,  we  had  crossed 
the  Rappahannock,  and  now,  where  this  narrative  re- 
sumes its  thread,  were  fighting  our  way  under  a  mur- 
derous fire  from  every  cover,  from  street  to  street, 
through  Fredericksburg. 

As  I  was  engaged  in  posting  advanced  skirmishers 
along  the  line  on  which  brave  Arthur  Fuller  had  just 
fallen  but  forty  rods  further  to  the  eastward,  a  body  of 


238  Little  Briggs  and  I. 

one  hundred  rebels  rose  with  yells  from  behind  a  low 
board-fence  across  the  way,  and  poured  a  volley  into 
our  little  squad.  We  looked  about  in  vain  for  support. 
It  was  a  necessity  bitter  as  death;  but  we  were  com- 
pelled to  fall  back  to  the  cover  of  an  old  stable  on  the 
next  street.  Slowly  and  in  good  order,  firing  steadily 
as  we  retired,  we  got  within  a  pistol-shot  of  shelter, 
and,  looking  back,  saw  Briggs's  company  coming  at 
the  double-quick  up  a  lane  on  the  right  to  reinforce 
us,  when  I  felt  a  sudden  shiver  of  pain,  as  if  a  sharp 
icicle  had  run  into  my  thigh;  my  feet  went  from  un- 
der me;  my  eyes  grew  misty;  and  then  all  was  dark- 
ness. 

When  I  next  came  to  myself,  it  was  late  twilight.  I 
was  lying  alone,  in  maddening  thirst  and  agony,  —  the 
air  about  me  stifling  with  smoke,  and  still  singing  with 
bullets.  Two  detachments  of  the  opposing  forces  were 
contending  for  the  space  on  which  I  lay;  and,  as  the 
balls  whistled  over  me,  I  momently  expected  the  final 
quietus  to  my  pain.  In  an  interval  between  the  volleys 
on  our  side,  I  saw  a  man  leave  the  ranks,  and  come 
crawling  on  his  hands  and  knees  toward  me.  Little  by 
little  he  approached  the  place  where  I  lay,  without  at- 
tracting the  aim  of  the  opposite  combatants.  It  was 
too  dark  to  distinguish  his  uniform;  but  I  supposed  him 
some  reckless  rebel,  coming  to  rob  me  of  my  watch  and 
side-arms;  and,  having  heard  of  the  practice,  occasion- 
ally indulged  in  by  our  foes,  of  putting  wounded  men 
beyond  the  future  trouble  of  claiming  such  little  trinkets? 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  239 

feigned  death,  with  eyes  tight-shut  and  breath  close- 
held.  But  he  bent  over  me  only  an  instant;  then  lifted 
me  upon  his  back,  with  my  face  over  his  shoulder  and 
my  arms  hanging  down,  and  began  returning  with  me, 
on  his  hands  and  knees,  as  he  had  come.  When  he  was 
about  half-way  home  to  his  comrades,  the  enemy  evi- 
dently caught  sight  of  him  ;  for  a  shout  ran  along  their 
front,  and  a  dozen  shots  followed,  unpleasantly  close  to 
my  ears.  My  carrier  lay  down  for  a  moment,  slid  me 
off  his  back,  wound  one  arm  around  my  waist,  and, 
covering  me  with  his  own  body,  crept  on  his  knees  and 
the  remaining  hand  until  he  had  dragged  me  within  his 
own  lines.  Just  as  he  got  in,  the  pain  of  my  wounded 
leg  reached  such  a  pitch,  through  the  irritation  of  move- 
ment, that  I  heard  only  the  burst  of  cheers  with  which 
his  friends  received  him,  and  the  rattle  of  the  volley 
which  his  return  left  them  free  to  fire,  then  once  more 
became  dead  to  all  the  world. 

"When  I  again  awoke,  I  found  myself  lying  on  a  bed 
of  army-blankets,  with  a  pillow  of  the  same  material 
rolled  up  under  my  head;  and  two  men  stood  near  me, 
talking  in  a  repressed  voice,  under  the  shadow  of  a  high 
stone-wall. 

"  I'm  afraid  he  can't  possibly  last  through  the  night," 
said  one  of  them;  "he  has  lost  so  much  blood  that 
there's  nothing  left  to  rally.  He  may  revive  again  for  a 
moment,  but  hardly." 

"  Well,  doctor,"  answered  the  other,  in  a  voice  of  deep 


240  /  it  tie  Briggs  and  I. 

sadness,  "don't  let  me  keep  you  any  longer;  I'll  stay 
and  watch  with  him  till  the  stretcher  comes." 

It  was  my  old  school-mate  who  spoke.  I  tried  to  call 
on  him  ;  but,  in  my  intense  weakness,  my  tongue  failed 
me. 

He  brought  a  lantern  from  the  shadow  of  the  wall, 
and,  tucking  the  blankets  tenderly  about  my  feet,  threw 
the  light  upon  his  lap,  and  took  out  of  his  pocket  a  little 
bundle  tied  up  in  his  handkerchief.  When  he  undid  the 
knots,  I  recognized  in  their  enclosure  the  precious  little 
remembrances  which  I  had  carried  next  my  breast  and 
taken  into  every  fight  with  me  since  the  war  began. 
One  by  one  he  held  them  in  the  light  of  the  lantern,  and 
soliloquized  over  them  bitterly. 

"  She  gave  me  a  home;  she  stood  up  for  me  when  I 
hadn't  a  defender  in  the  world;  she  did  a  mother's  best 
for  me  when  mine  couldn't  help  me.  That's  her  dear 
face,  with  the  eyes  looking  just  as  if  she  expected  Ben; 
and  there  lies  all  that  will  ever  get  home  to  her.  And  I 
brought  him  here  —  J,  I  !  O  God  !  why  couldn't  they 
have  shot  me,  too  ?  Why  didn't  I  fall  dead  on  him 
while  I  was  dragging  him  out  of  fire  ?  How  can  J  send 
him  back  to  her,  so  ?• 

"Here  are  the  letters,  —  'Captain  Ben  Thirlwall'; 
he'd  have  been  a  general  if  he'd  lived.  How  proud  his 
mother'd  have  been.  How  proud  she'd  have  been  too. 
And  here's  her  picture.  Oh,  sweet,  sweet !  how  I've 
loved  those  eyes  —  ever  so  long  ago  —  ever  since  I  was 
a  little  boy  !  —  and  Fd  no  right  —  they  were  his  —  they 


Little  Briggs  and  I.  241 

always  looked  dearly  at  him,  and  I  was  a  vain,  presump- 
tuous, passionate  fool.  They  were  to  have  been  mar- 
ried the  first  time  he  got  furlough.  Lovely  face  !  all  my 
life  far  off  and  darling  as  heaven,  how  can  I  ever  look 
into  you  any  more  ?  Let  me  be  forgiven;  let  me  kiss 
you  once,  as  if  we  were  children  again  in  the  old  farm- 
house; no  one  can  see  it  —  even  you  can't  know:  it 
will  do  you  no  wrong;  once  — the  only,  the  last  time 
my  beloved,  widowed,  sister." 

He  pressed  his  lips  to  the  photograph;  his  sorrowful 
eyes  grew  wet;  and,  hearing  a  measured  noise  of  feet, 
he  thrust  the  articles  back  into  his  pocket,  drew  his  cuff 
across  his  face,  and  stood  up  with  a  stern  "  Who  goes 
there  ?  " 

"  Men  with  the  stretcher,  captain,"  answered  a  cor- 
poral, saluting. 

My  school-mate  raised  me  tenderly  in  his  arms  and 
laid  me  on  the  stretcher.  I  made  one  desperate  effort, 
patted  his  cheek  and  whispered,  "  Dear  old  boy  !  "  then 
swooned  once  more  with  his  cry  of  delight  ringing  in 
my  ears,  and  never  woke  again  till  the  sun  was  shining 
brightly  into  my  hospital  tent  on  the  northern  side  of  the 
Rappahannock. 

The  moans  of  wounded  men.  sinking  to  their  final  rest, 
mingled  around  me  with  the  outcries  of  those  who  were 
fighting  their  battles  over  again  in  the  frenzy  of  deliri- 
um. Inflammation  had  set  in,  and  I  was  suffering  great 
pain  and  fever;  but  my  reason  was  left  me,  and  my  first 
thought  was  of  the  friend  who  had  borne  my  bleeding 
18 


242  Little  Briggs  and  /. 

body  and  his  own  broken  heart  out  of  last  night's  hell- 
ish hail-storm. 

"  Briggs  I  "  I  cried,  faintly. 

A  kind  fellow  in  employ  of  the  Sanitary  Commission, 
who  was  watching  in  the  tent,  came  softly  to  my  side  with 
a  canteen  of  cool  spring  water  and  a  cup  of  brandy. 

«]^0  —  not  that  —  not  that!"  said  I;  "where's  Cap- 
tain Briggs  ?  " 

He  moistened  my  lips,  and  told  me  he  would  look 
about  in  camp  and  see.  He  had  not  been  gone  five 
minutes  when  I  heard  a  bustle  outside  the  tent  and  some 
one  say, — 

"  Where  did  you  find  him  ?  " 

"  He  was  shot  from  behind  a  fence  last  night,  while  he 
was  gathering  in  the  wounded,"  said  another  voice. 

" No — not  in  there  !"  exclaimed  a  third,  hastily; 
"  take  it  to  the  next  tent  —  Captain  Thirlwall  lies  in  this, 
badly  wounded." 

Take  it.  Who  was  it  that  had  been  he  last  night,  and 
was  only  it  this  morning  ?  A  terrible  strength  came 
into  me ;  I  crawled  off  my  ground-spread  blankets,  and 
pulled  myself  on  my  elbows  to  the  door.  When  they 
saw  my  deathly  face  in  the  gap  of  the  tent,  they  hurried- 
ly closed  up  in  front  of  me,  making  as  if  they  would  con- 
ceal from  me  something  which  lay  still  and  ghastly  on  a 
stretcher.  Too  late,  —  I  had  seen  the  well-known  fore- 
head with  its  clustering  brown  curls  matted  in  blood, 
and  one  ragged,  blue  hole  in  the  centre  —  and  seeing  that 
saw  no  more.  My  next  four  weeks  were  past  in  raving 
delirium. 


Little  Briggs  and  /.  243 

When  my  wife  and  I  sit  in  the  evening  by  our  bed- 
room fire,  our  eyes  sometimes  fall  on  a  worn,  little  da- 
guerrotype,  which  has  been  removed  from  its  morocco 
case  and  put  on  the  mantle-piece,  in  an  open  frame  of 
black  walnut.  It  represents  a  bluff-faced,  pleasant-eyed 
school-boy;  it  was  taken  during  the  days  of  fearful 
happiness  which  we  spent  all  together  at  my  mother's 
cottage  by  the  sea.  My  mind  glances  on  to  another 
time  when  a  full-grown  man  bore  me  under  his  own 
body's  cover,  out  of  the  fire  at  Fredericksburg.  I  clasp 
my  wife's  hand  closer,  and  as  neither  can  see  the  other 
for  tears,  we  know  that  we  are  both  thinking  of  Little 
Briggs. 


A   BRACE    OF    BOYS. 

(245) 


A  BRACE  OF  BOYS. 


AM  a  bachelor  uncle.  That,  as  a  mere  fact, 
might  happen  to  anybody;  but  I  am  a  bachelor 
uncle  by  internal  fitness.  I  am  one  essentially, 
just  as  I  am  an  individual  of  the  Caucasian  di- 
vision of  the  human  race;  and  if,  through  untoward  cir- 
cumstances,—  which  Heaven  forbid! — I  should  lose 
my  present  position,  I  shouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  saw 
me  out  in  the  Herald  under  "  Situations  Wanted  — 
Males."  Thanks  to  a  marrying  tendency  in  the  rest 
of  my  family,  I  have  now  little  need  to  advertise,  all  the 
business  being  thrown  into  my  way  which  a  single  mem- 
ber of  my  profession  can  attend  to. 

I  suppose  you  wont  agree  with  me ;  but  do  you  know 
sometimes  I  think  it's  better  than  having  children  of 
one's  own  ?  People  tell  me  that  I'd  feel  very  differently 
if  I  did  have  any.  Perhaps  so;  but  then,  too,  I  might 
be  unwise  with  them.  I  might  bother  them  into  mis- 
chief by  trying  to  keep  them  out.  I  might  be  avaricious 
of  them,  — might  be  tempted  to  lock  them  up  in  my 
own  stingy  old  nursery-chest  instead  of  paying  them 

(247) 


248  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

out  to  meet  the  bills  of  humanity  and  keep  the  Lord's 
business  moving.  I  might  forget,  when  I  had  spent  my 
life  in  fining  their  gold  and  polishing  their  graven- work, 
that  they  were  still  vessels  for  the  Master's  use,  —  I 
only  the  butler,  —  the  sweetness  and  the  spirit  with 
which  they  brimmed  all  belonging  to  His  lips  who 
tasted  bitterness  for  me.  Then,  if  seeking  to  drain 
another's  wine  I  raised  the  chalice  to  my  lips  and  found 
it  gall,  or  felt  it  steal  into  my  old  veins  to  poison  the 
heart  and  paralyze  the  hand  which  had  kept  it  from  the 
Master,  what  further  good  would  there  be  for  me  in  the 
world  ?  Who  doesn't  know  in  some  friend's  house  a 
closet  containing  that  worst  of  skeletons,  —  the  skeleton 
which,  in  becoming  naked,  grim,  and  ghastly,  tears  its 
way  through  our  own  flesh  and  blood  ? 

To  be  an  uncle  is  a  different  kind  of  thing.  There 
you  have  nothing  of  the  excitement  of  responsibility  to 
shake  your  judgment.  That's  what  makes  us  bachelor 
uncles  so  much  better  judges  of  what's  good  for  children 
than  their  fathers  and  mothers.  We  know  that  nobody 
will  blame*  us  if  our  nephews  unjoint  their  knuckles  or 
cut  their  fingers  off;  so  we  give  them  five-bladed  knives 
and  boxing-gloves.  This  involves  getting  thanked  at 
the  time,  which  is  pleasant;  and  if  no  catastrophe 
occurs,  when  they  have  grown  stout  and  ingenious,  witli 
what  calm  satisfaction  we  hear  people  say>  "  See  what  a 
pretty  wind-mill  the  child's  whittled  out  with  Uncle  Ned's 
birthday  present !  "  or  "  That  boy's  grown  an  inch  round 
the  chest  since  you  set  him  sparring  !  "  Uncles  never 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  249 

get  stale.  They  don't  come  every  day  like  parents  and 
plain  pudding;  they're  a  sort  of  holiday  relative,  with  a 
plummy,  Christinas  flavor  about  them.  Everybody 
hasn't  got  them;  they're  not  so  rare  as  the  meteoric 
showers,  but  as  occasional  a.s  a  particularly  fine  day, 
and  whenever  they  come  to  a  house  they're  in  the  nature 
of  a  pleasant  surprise. 

I  meander,  like  a  desultory,  placid  river  of  an  old 
bachelor  as  I  am,  through  the  flowery  mead  of  several 
nurseries.  I  am  detained  by  all  the  little  roots  that  run 
down  into  me  to  drink  happiness,  but  I  linger  longest 
among  the  children  of  my  sister  Lu. 

Lu  married  Mr.  Lovegrove.  He  is  a  merchant,  re- 
tired with  a  fortune  amassed  by  the  old-fashioned,  slow 
processes  of  trade,  and  regards  the  mercantile  life  of  the 
present  day  only  as  so  much  greed  and  gambling  Chris- 
tianly  baptized.  For  the  ten  years  elapsing  since  he 
sold  out  of  Lovegrove,  Cashdown,  &  Co.,  he  has  devoted 
himself  to  his  family  and  a  revival  of  letters,  taking  up 
again  the  Latin  and  Greek  which  he  had  not  looked  at 
since  his  college  days  until  he  dismissed  teas'  and  silks 
to  adorn  a  suburban  villa  with  the  spectacle  of  a  prime 
Christian  parent  and  Pagan  scholar.  Lu  is  my  favorite 
sister;  Lovegrove  an  usually  good  article  of  brother-in- 
law;  and  I  cannot  say  that  any  of  my  nieces  and 
nephews  interest  me  more  than  their  two  children,  Dan- 
iel and  Billy,  who  are  more  unlike  than  words  can  paint 
them.  They  are  far  apart  in  point  of  years;  Daniel  is 
twentv-two.  Billv  eleven.  I  was  reminded  of  this  fact 


250  A  Brace  of  Boys, 

the  other  day  by  Billy,  as  he  stood  between  my  legs, 
scowling  at  his  book  of  sums. 

" '  A  boy  has  eighty-five  turnips,  and  gives  his  sister 
thirty,'  —  pretty  present  for  a  girl,  isn't  it  ?  "  said  Billy, 
with  an  air  of  supreme  contempt.  Could  you  stand  such 
stuff,  —  say  ?  " 

I  put  on  my  instructive  face  and  answered,  — 

"  "Well,  my  dear  Billy,  you  know  that  arithmetic  is 
necessary  to  you  if  you  mean  to  be  an  industrious  man 
and  succeed  in  business.  Suppose  your  parents  were  to 
lose  all  their  property,  what  would  become  of  them 
without  a  little  son  who  could  make  money  and  keep 
accounts  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  Billy,  with  surprise.  "  Hasn't  father  got 
enough  stamps  to  see  him  through  ?  " 

"  He  has  now,  I  hope;  but  people  don't  always  keep 
them.  Suppose  they  should  go  by  some  accident,  when 
your  father  was  too  old  to  make  any  more  stamps  for 
himself  ?  "  — 

"  You  haven't  thought  of  brother  Daniel  "  — 

True;  for  nobody  ever  had,  in  connection  with  the 
active  employments  of  life. 

"  No,  Billy,"  I  replied,  "  1  forgot  him;  but  then,  you 
know,  Daniel  is  more  of  a  student  than  a  business  man, 
and"  — 

"  O  Uncle  Teddy  !  you  don't  think  I  mean  he'd  sup- 
port them  ?  I  meant  I'd  have  to  take  care  of  father 
and  mother,  and  him  too,  when  they'd  all  got  to  be  old 
people  together.  Just  think  !  I'm  eleven,  and  he's 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  251 

twenty-two;  so  he  is  just  twice  as  old  as  I  am.  How 
old  are  you  ?  " 

"  Forty,  Billy,  last  August." 

"  "Well,  you  aren't  so  awful  old,  and  when  I  get  to  be 
as  old  as  you  Daniel  will  be  eighty.  Seth  Kendall's 
grandfather  isn't  more  than  that,  and  he  has  to  be  fed 
with  a  spoon,  and  a  nurse  puts  him  to  bed,  and  wheels 
him  round  in  a  chair  like  a  baby.  That  takes  the 
stamps,  I  bet !  Well,  I'll  tell  you  how  I'll  keep  my 
accounts:  I'll  have  a  stick,  like  Robinson  Crusoe,  and 
every  time  I  make  a  toadskin  I'll  gouge  a  piece  out  of 
one  side  of  the  stick,  and  every  time  I  spend  one  I'll 
gouge  a  piece  out  of  the  other." 

"  Spend  a  what  ? "  said  the  gentle  and  astonished 
voice  of  my  sister  Lu,  who,  unperceived,  had  slipped 
into  the  room. 

"  A  toadskin,  ma,"  replied  Billy,  shutting  up  Colburn 
with  a  farewell  glance  of  contempt. 

"  Dear,  dear  !  Where  does  the  boy  learn  such  hor- 
rid words  ?  " 

••Why,  ma!  Don't  you  know  what  a  toadskin  is? 
Here's  one,"  said  Billy,  drawing  a  dingy  five-cent  stamp 
from  his  pocket.  "  And  don't  I  wish  I  had  lota  of 
'em  1  "  • 

'•  Oh  !  "  sighed  his  mother,  "to  think  I  should  have  a 
child  so  addicted  to  slang  !  How  I  wish  he  were  like 
Daniel !  " 

••  Well,  mother,"  replied  Billy,  "if  you  wanted  two 
boys  just  alike  vonM  mighter  had  twins.  There  aint 


252  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

any  use  of  my  trying  to  be  like  Daniel  now,  when  he's 
got  eleven  years  the  start.  "Whoop  !  There's  a  dog-fight; 
hear  'em  !  It's  Joe  Casey's  dog,  —  I  know  his  bark  ! " 

With  these  words  my  nephew  snatched  his  Glengarry 
bonnet  from  the  table  and  bolted  downstairs  to  see  the 
fun. 

""What  will  become  of  him  ?  "  said  Lu,  hopelessly; 
"  he  has  no  taste  for  anything  but  rough  play;  and  then 
such  language  as  he  uses  !  Why  isn't  he  like  Daniel  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  because  his  Maker  never  repeats  himself. 
Even  twins  often  possess  strongly  marked  individualities. 
Don't  you  think  it  would  be  a  good  plan  to  learn  Billy 
better  before  you  try  to  teach  him  ?  If  you  do,  you'll 
make  something  as  good  of  him  as  Daniel;  though  it 
will  be  rather  different  from  that  model." 

"  Kemember,  Ned,  that  you  never  did  like  Daniel  as 
well  as  you  do  Billy.  But  we  all  know  the  proverb 
about  old  maids'  daughters  and  old  bachelors'  sons.  I 
wish  you  had  Billy  for  a  month,  —  then  you'd  see." 

"  I'm  not  sure  that  I'd  do  any  better  than  you.  I 
might  err  as  much  in  other  directions.  But  I'd  try  to 
start  right  by  acknowledging  that  he  was  a  new  prob- 
lem, not  to  be  worked  without  finding  out  the  value  of 
x  in  his  particular  instance.  The  formula  which  solves 
one  boy  will  no  more  solve  the  next  one  than  the  rule-of- 
three  will  solve  a  question  in  calculus,  —  or,  to  rise  into 
your  sphere,  than  the  receipt  for  one-two-three-four  cake 
will  conduct  you  to  a  successful  issue  through  plum- 
pudding  "  — 


.  1    Hnicc  of  Boys.  253 

I  excel  in  metaphysical  disc:issionv  and  was  about 
giving  further  elaboration  to  my  favorite  idea,  when  the 
door  burst  open.  Master  Billy  came  tumbling  in  with  a 
torn  jacket,  a  bloody  no.*e,  the  trace  of  a  few  tears  in  his 
eyes,  and  the  mangiest  of  cur  dogs  in  his  hands. 

"  Oh  my  !  my  !  !  my  !   !   !  "  exclaimed  his  mother. 

"  Don't  you  get  scared,  ma  ! "  cried  Billy,  smiling  a 
stern  smile  of  triumph;  "I  smashed  the  nose  off  him  ! 
He  wont  sass  me  again  for  nothing  this  while  !  Uncle 
Teddy,  d'ye  know  it  wasn't  a  dog-fight,  after  all  ?  There 
was  that  nasty,  good-for-nothing  Joe  Casey,  'n  Patsy 
Grogan,  and  a  lot  of  bad  boys  from  Mackerelville;  and 
they'd  caught  this  poor  little  ki-oodle  and  tied  a  tin  pot 
to  his  tail,  and  were  trying  to  set  Joe's  dog  on  him, 
though  he's  ten  times  littler  "  — 

"  You  naughty,  naughty  boy  !  How  did  you  suppose 
your  mother'd  feel  to  see  you  playing  with  those  raga- 
muffins ?  " 

"Yes,  I  played  'em!  I  polished  "em, —  that's  the 
play  I  did  !  Says  I,  'Put  down  that  poor  little  pup; 
aint  you  ashamed  of  yourself.  Patsy  Grogan?'  'I 
guess  you  don't  know  who  I  am,'  says  he.  That's  the 
way  they  always  say,  Uncle  Teddy,  to  make  a  fellow 
think  they're  some  awful  great  fighters.  So  says  I 
again, '  Well,  you  put  down  that  dog,  or  I'll  show  you 
who  I  am;'  and  when  he  held  on,  I  let  him  have. 
Then  he  dropped  the  pup,  and  as  I  stooped  to  pick  it  up 
he  gave  me  one  on  the  bugle." 

"  Jingle  !    Oh  !  oh  !  oh  !  " 


254  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

"The  rest  pitched  in  to  help  him;  but  I  grabbed  the 
pup,  and  while  I  was  trying  to  give  as  good  as  I  got,  — 
only  a  fellow  can't  do  it  well  with  only  one  hand,  Uncle 
Teddy,  —  up  came  a  policeman,  and  the  whole  crowd 
ran  away.  So  I  got  the  dog  safe,  and  here  he  is  1  " 

"With  that  Billy  set  down  his  "  ki-oodle,"  bid  farewell 
to  every  fear,  and  wiped  his  bleeding  nose.  The  un- 
happy beast  slunk  back  between  the  legs  of  his  pre- 
server and  followed  him  out  of  the  room,  asLu,  with  an 
expression  of  maternal  despair,  bore  him  away  for  the 
correction  of  his  dilapidated  raiment  and  depraved  as- 
sociations. I  felt  such  sincere  pride  in  this  young  Maz- 
zini  of  the  dog-nation  that  I  was  vexed  at  Lu  for  be- 
stowing on  him  reproof  instead  of  congratulation;  but 
she  was  not  the  only  conservative  who  fails  to  see  a 
good  cause  and  a  heroic  heart  under  a  bloody  nose  and 
torn  jacket.  I  resolved  that  if  Billy  was  punished  he 
should  have  his  recompense  before  long  in  an  extra  hol- 
iday at  Barnum's  or  the  Hippotheatron. 

You  already  have  some  idea  of  my  other  nephew,  if 
you  have  noticed  that  none  of  us,  not  even  that  habitual 
disrespecter  of  dignities,  Billy,  ever  called  him  Dan. 
It  would  have  seemed  as  incongruous  as  to  call  Billy 
William.  He  was  one  of  those  youths  who  never  gave 
their  parents  a  moment's  uneasiness;  who  never  had  to 
have  their  wills  broken,  and  never  forgot  to  put  on  their 
rubbers  or  take  an  umbrella.  In  boyhood  he  was  in- 
tended for  a  missionary.  Had  it  been  possible  for  him 
to  go  to  Greenland's  icy  mountains  without  catching 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  255 

cold,  or  India's  coral  strand  without  getting  bilious,  his 
parents  would  have  carried  out  their  pleasing  dream  of 
contributing  him  to  the  world's  evangelization.  Lu  and 
Mr.  Lovegrovc  had  no  doubt  that  he  would  have  been 
greatly  blessed  if  he  could  have  stood  it.  They  brought 
him  up  iu  the  most  careful  manner,  and  I  cannot  recol- 
lect the  time  when  he  was  not  president,  secretary,  or 
something  in  some  society  of  small  yet  good  children. 
He  was  not  only  an  exemplar  to  whom  all  Lu's  friends 
pointed  their  own  nursery  as  the  little  boy  who  could 
say  most  hymns  and  sit  stillest  in  church,  but  he  was  a 
reproof  even  unto  his  elders.  One  Sunday  afternoon, 
in  the  Connecticut  village  where  my  brother-in-law  used 
to  spend  his  summers,  when  half  the  congregation  were 
slumbering  under  the  combined  effect  of  the  heat,  a 
lunch  of  cheese  and  apples,  and  the  sermon,  my  nephew, 
then  aged  five,  sat  bolt  upright  in  the  pew,  winkless  as 
a  deacon  hearing  a  new  candidate  suspected  of  shuki- 
ness  on  "  a  card'nal  p'int,"  and  mortified  almost  to  death 
poor  old  Mrs.  Pringle.  who,  compassionating  his  years, 
had  handed  him  a  sprig  of  her  "  meetin'  seed  "  over  the 
back  of  the  seat,  by  saying,  in  a  loud  and  stern  voice,  — 

"  I  don't  eat  things  in  church." 

I  should  have  spanked  the  boy  when  I  got  home,  but 
Lu,  with  ti-ars  in  her  eyes,  quoted  something  about  the 
mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings. 

Both  she  and  his  father  always  encouraged  old  man- 
ners in  him.  I  think  they  took  such  pride  in  raising  a 
peculiarly  pale  boy  as  a  gardener  does  in  getting  a  nice 


256  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

blanch  on  his  celery,  and  so  long  as  he  was  not  abso- 
lutely sick,  the  graver  he  was  the  better.  He  was  a  sen- 
sitive plant,  a  violet  by  a  mossy  stone,  and  all  that  sort 
of  thing.  But  when  in  his  tenth  year  he  had  the  mea- 
sles, and  was  narrowly  carried  through,  Lu  got  a  scare 
about  him.  During  his  convalescence,  reading  aloud 
a  life  of  Henry  Martyn  to  amuse  him,  she  found  in  it 
a  picture  of  that  young  apostle  preaching  to  a  crowd  of 
Hindoos  without  any  boots  on.  An  American  mother's 
association  of  such  behavior  with  croup  and  ipecac  was 
too  strong  to  be  counteracted  by  known  climatic  facts; 
and  from  that  hour,  as  she  never  had  before,  Lu  real- 
ized that  being  a  missionary  might  involve  going  to 
carry  the  gospel  to  the  heathen  in  your  stocking-feet. 

When  they  had  decided  that  such  a  life  would  not  do 
for  him,  his  training  had  almost  entirely  unfitted  him 
for  any  other  active  calling.  The  strict  propriety  with 
which  he  had  been  brought  up  had  resulted  in  weak 
lungs,  poor  digestion,  sluggish  circulation,  and  torpid 
liver.  Moreover,  he  was  troubled  with  the  painfulest 
bashfulness  which  ever  made  a  mother  think  her  child 
too  ethereal,  or  a  dispassionate  outsider  regard  him  too 
flimsy,  for  this  world.  These  were  weights  enough  to 
carry,  even  if  he  had  not  labored  under  that  heaviest  of 
all,  a  well-stored  mind. 

No  misnomer  that  last  to  any  one  who  has  ever  fre- 
quented the  Atlantic  Docks,  or  seen  storage  in  any  large 
port  of  entry.  How  does  a  storehouse  look  ?  It's  a 
vast,  dark,  cold  chambor,  —  dust  an  inch  deep  on  the 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  257 

floor,  cobwebs  festooning  the  girders,  —  and  piled  from 
floor  to  ceiling,  on  the  principle  of  getting  the  largest 
bulk  into  the  least  room,  with  barrels,  boxes,  bales, 
baskets,  chests,  crates,  and  carboys,  —  merchandise  of 
all  description,  from  the  roughest  raw  material  to  the 
most  exquisite  chores  He  luxe.  The  inmost  layers  are 
inextricable  without  pulling  down  the  outer  ones.  If 
you  want  a  particular  case  of  broadcloth  you  must  clear 
yourself  an  alley-way  through  a  hundred  tierces  of 
hams,  and  last  week's  entry  of  clayed  sugars  is  inacces- 
sible without  tumbling  on  your  head  a  mountain  of 
Yankee  notions. 

In  my  nephew's  unfortunate  youth  such  storage  as 
this  had  minds.  As  long  as  the  crown  of  his  brain's 
arch  was  not  crushed  in  by  some  intellectual  Furman- 
street  disaster,  those  stevedores  of  learning,  the  school- 
masters, kept  on  unloading  the  Rome  and  Athens 
lighters  into  a  boy's  crowded  skull,  and  breaking  out  of 
the  hold  of  that  colossal  old  junk,  The  Pure  Mathe- 
matics, all  the  formulas  which  could  be  crowded  into 
the  interstices  between  his  Latin  and  Greek. 

At  the  time  I  introduce  Billy  both  Lu  and  her  hus- 
band were  much  changed.  They  had  gained  a  great 
deal  in  width  of  view  and  liberality  of  judgment:  They 
read  Dickens  and  Thackeray  with  avidity;  went  now 
and  then  to  the  opera;  proposed  to  let  Billy  take  a  quar- 
ter at  Dod worth's;  had  statues  in  their  parlor  without 
any  thought  of  shame  at  their  lack  of  petticoats,  and  did 
multitudes  of  things  which,  in  their  early  married  life, 


258  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

they  would  have  considered  shocking.  Part  of  this  change 
was  due  to  the  great  increase  of  travel,  the  wonderful 
progress  in  art  and  refinement  which  has  enlarged  this 
generation's  thought  and  corrected  its  ignorant  opin- 
ions; infusing  cosmopolitanism  into  our  manners  by  a 
revolution  so  gradual  that  its  subjects  were  a  new  peo- 
ple before  their  combativeness  became  alarmed,  yet  so 
rapid  that  a  man  of  thirty  can  scarcely  believe  his  birth- 
day, and  questions  whether  he  has  not  added  his  life  up 
wrong  by  a  century  or  so  when  he  compares  his  own 
boyhood  with  that  of  the  present  day.  But  a  good  deal 
of  the  transformation  resulted  from  the  means  of  grati- 
fying elegant  tastes,  the  comfort,  luxury,  and  culture 
which  came  with  Lovegrove's  retirement  on  a  fortune. 
They  had  mellowed  on  the  sunny  shelves  of  prosperity 
like  every  good  thing  which  has  an  astringent  skin  when 
it  is  green.  They  would  greatly  have  liked  to  see  Daniel 
shine  in  society.  Of  his  erudition  they  were  proud  even 
to  worship.  The  young  man  never  had  any  business, 
and  his  father  never  seemed  to  think  of  giving  him  any, 
knowing,  as  Billy  would  say,  that  he  had  stamps  enough 
to  "  see  him  through."  If  Daniel  liked,  his  father  would 
have  endowed  a  professorship  in  some  college  and  given 
him  the  chair;  but  that  would  have  taken  him  away  from 
his  own  room  and  the  family  physician. 

Daniel  knew  how  much  his  parents  wished  him  to 
make  a  figure  in  the  world,  and  only  blamed  himself  for 
his  failure,  magnanimously  forgetting  that  they  had 
crushed  out;  the  faculties  which  enable  a  man  to  mint  the 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  259 

small  change  of  every-day  society,  in  the  exclusive  culti- 
vation of  such  as  fit  him  for  smelting  its  ponderous  in- 
gots. With  that  merciful  blindness  which  alone  pre- 
vents all  our  lives  from  becoming  a  horror  of  nerveless 
self-reproach,  his  parents  were  equally  unaware  of  their 
share  in  the  harm  done  him,  when  they  ascribed  to  deli- 
cate organization  the  fact  that,  at  an  age  when  love  rune 
riot  in  all  healthy  blood,  he  could  not  see  a  Balmoral 
without  his  cheeks  rivalling  the  most  vivid  stripe  in  it. 
They  flattered  themselves  that  he  would  outgrow  his 
bashfulness;  but  Daniel  had  no  such  hope,  and  fre- 
quently confided  in  me  that  he  thought  he  should  never 
marry  at  all. 

About  two  hours  after  Billy's  disappearance  under 
his  mother's  convoy,  the  defender  of  the  oppressed  re- 
turned to  my  room  bearing  the  dog  under  his  arm.  His 
cheeks  shone  with  washing  like  a  pair  of  waxy  spitzen- 
bergs,  and  other  indignities  had  been  offered  him  to  the 
extent  of  the  brush  and  comb.  He  also  had  a  whole 
jacket  on. 

"  Well,  Billy,"  said  I,  "  what  are  you  going  to  do  with 
your  dog  ?  " 

"  I  don't  know  what  I  am  a-going  to  do.  I've  a  great 
mind  to  be  a  bad,  disobedient  boy  with  him,  and  not 
have  my  days  long  in  the  land  which  the  Lord  my  God 
giveth  me." 

"O  Billy  : 

"  I  can't  help  it.  They  wont  be  long  if  I  don't  mind 
ma,  she  says;  and  she  wants  me  to  be  mean,  and  put 


260  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

Crab  out  in  the  street  to  have  Palsy  catch  him  and  tie 
coffee-pots  to  his  tail.  I  —  I  —  I  "  — 

Here  my  small  nephew  dug  his  fist  into  his  eye  and 
looked  down. 

I  told  Billy  to  stop  where  he  was,  and  went  to  inter- 
cede with  Lu.  She  was  persuaded  to  entertain  the 
angels  of  magnanimity  and  heroism  in  the  disguise  of  a 
young  fighting  character,  and  accept  my  surety  for  the 
behavior  of  his  dog.  Billy  and  I  also  obtained  permis- 
sion to  go  out  together  and  be  gone  the  entire  after- 
noon. We  put  Crab  on  a  comfortable  bed  of  rags  in  an 
old  shoe-box,  and  then  strolled  hand  in  hand  across  that 
most  delightful  of  New  York  breathing-places,  Stuyve- 
sant  Square. 

"  Uncle  Teddy  ! "  exclaimed  Billy,  with  ardor,  "  I 
wish  I  could  do  something  to  show  you  how  much  I 
think  of  you  for  being  so  good  to  me.  I  don't  know 
how.  Would  it  make  you  happy  if  I  was  to  learn  a 
hymn  for  you,  —  a  smashing  big  hymn,  —  six  verses, 
long  metre,  and  no  grumbling  ?  " 

"  No,  Billy;  you  make  me  happy  enough  just  by  be- 
ing a  good  boy." 

"  Oh,  Uncle  Teddy  I "  replied  Billy,  decidedly,  "  I'm 
afraid  I  can't  do  it.  I've  tried  so  often,  and  I  always 
make  such  an  awful  mess  of  it." 

"  Perhaps  you  get  discouraged  too  easily"  — 

"  Well,  if  a  savings-bank  wont  do  it  there  aint  any 
chance  for  a  boy.  I  got  father  to  get  me  a  savings- 
bank  once,  and  began  being  good  just  as  hard  as  ever  I 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  261 

could  for  three  cents  a  day.  Every  night  I  got  'em,  I 
put  'era  in  reg'lar,  and  sometimes  I'd  keep  being  good 
three  whole  days  running.  That  made  a  sight  of 
money,  I  tell  you.  Then  I'd  do  something,  ma  said,  to 
kick  my  pail  of  milk  over,  and  those  nights  I  didn't  get 
anything.  I  used  to  put  in  most  of  my  marble  and 
candy-money,  too." 

"  What  were  you  going  to  do  with  it  ?  " 

"  It  was  for  an  Objeck,  Uncle  Tedd}-.  That's  a  kind 
of  Indian,  you  know,  that  eats  people  and  wants  the 
gospel.  That's  what  pa  says,  any  way;  I  didn't  ever 
see  one." 

"Well,  didn't  that  make  you  happy,  —  to  help  the 
poor  little  heathen  children  ?  " 

"  That's  just  it,  Uncle  Teddy;  they  never  got  a  cent 
of  it.  One  time  I  was  good  so  long  I  got  scared.  1  was 
afraid  I'd  never  want  to  fly  my  kite  on  the  roof  again, 
or  go  anywhere  where  I  oughtn't,  or  have  any  fun.  I 
couldn't  see  any  use  of  going  and  saving  all  my  money 
to  send  out  to  the  Objecks,  if  it  was  going  to  make  good 
boys  of  'ein.  It  was  awful  hard  for  me  to  have  to  be  a 
good  boy,  and  it  must  be  worse  for  them  'cause  they 
aint  used  to  it.  So  when  there  wasn't  anybody  up- 
stairs I  went  and  shook  a  lot  of  pennies  out  of  my  chim- 
ney and  bought  ever  so  much  tatty,  and  marbles,  and 
pop-corn.  Was  that  awful  mean,  Uncle  Teddy  ?  " 

The  question  involved  such  complications  that  I  hesi- 
tated. Before  I  could  decide  what  to  answer,  Billy  con- 
tinued :  — 


262  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

"  Ma  said  it  was  robbing  the  heathen,  and  didn't  I  get 
it !  I  thought  if  it  was  robbing,  I'd  have  a  cop  after 
me." 

«  What's  a  '  cop  ?  '" 

"  That's  what  the  boys  call  a  policeman,  Uncle  Teddy; 
and  then  I  should  be  taken  away  and  put  in  an  awful 
black  place  under  ground,  like  Johnny  "Wilson,  when  he 
broke  Mrs.  Perkins's  window.  I  was  scared,  I  tell  you  ! 
But  I  didn't  get  anything  worse  than  a  whipping,  and 
having  my  savings-bank  taken  away  from  me  with  all 
that  was  left  in  it.  I  haven't .  tried  to  be  good  since, 
much." 

We  now  got  into  a  Broadway  stage  going  down,  and 
being  unable,  on  account  of  the  noise,  to  converse  further 
upon  those  spiritual  conflicts  of  Billy's  which  so  much 
interested  me,  amused  ourselves  with  looking  out  until 
just  as  we  reached  the  Astor  House,  when  he  asked  me 
where  we  were  going. 

"  Where  do  you  guess  ?  "  said  I. 

He  cast  a  glance  through  the  front  window,  and  his 
face  became  irradiated.  Oh,  there's  nothing  like  the 
simple,  cheap  luxury  of  pleasing  a  child,  to  create  sun- 
shine enough  for  the  chasing  away  of  the  bluest  adult 
devils  ! 

"  We're  going  to  Barnum's  !  "  said  Billy,  involuntarily 
clapping  his  hands. 

So  we  were;  and,  much  as  stuck-up  people  pretend  to 
look  down  on  the  place,  I  frequently  am.  Not  only  so, 
but  I  always  see  that  class  largely  represented  there 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  263 

when  I  do  go.  To  be  sure  they  always  make-believe 
that  they  only  come  to  amuse  the  children,  or  because 
they've  country  cousins  visiting  them,  and  never  fail  to 
refer  to  the  vulgar  set  one  finds  there,  and  the  fact  of  the 
animals  smelling  like  anything  but  Jockey  Club;  yet  I 
notice  that  after  they've  been  in  the  hall  three  minutes 
they're  as  much  interested  as  any  of  the  people  they 
come  to  poh-poh,  and  only  put  on  the  high-bred  air  when 
they  fancy  some  of  their  own  class  are  looking  at  them. 
I  boldly  acknowledge  that  I  £o  because  I  like  it.  I  am 
especially  happy,  to  be  sure,  if  I  have  a  child  along  to 
go  into  ecstasies,  and  give  me  a  chance,  by  asking  ques- 
tions, for  the  exhibition  of  that  fund  of  information 
which  is  said  to  be  one  of  my  chief  charms  in  the  social 
circle,  and  on  several  occasions  has  led  that  portion  of 
the  public  immediately  about  the  Happy  Family  into 
the  erroneous  impression  that  I  was  Mr.  Barnum  ex- 
plaining his  five  hundred  thousand  curiosities. 

On  the  present  occasion  we  found  several  visitors  of 
the  better  class  in  the  room  devoted  to  the  Aquarium. 
Among  these  was  a  J7oung  lady  apparently  about  nine- 
teen, in  a  tight-fitting  basque  of  black  velvet,  which 
showed  her  elegant  figure  to  fine  advantage,  a  skirt  of 
garnet  silk  looped  up  over  a  pretty  Balmoral,  and  the 
daintiest  imaginable  pair  of  kid  walking-boots.  Her 
height  was  a  trifle  over  the  medium;  her  eyes  a  soft 
expressive  brown,  shaded  by  masses  of  hair  which  ex- 
actly matched  their  color,  and,  at  that  rat-and-miceless 
day,  fell  in  encli  graceful  abandon  as  to  show  at  once 


264  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

that  nature  was  the  only  maid  who  crimped  their  waves 
into  them.  Her  complexion  was  rosy  with  health  and 
sympathetic  enjoyment;  her  mouth  was  faultless,  her 
nose  sensitive,  her  manners  full  of  refinement,  and  her 
voice  musical  as  a  wood-robin's,  when  she  spoke  to  the 
little  boy  of  six  at  her  side,  to  whom  she  was  revealing 
the  palace  of  the  great  show-king.  Billy  and  I  were 
flattening  our  noses  against  the  abode  of  the  balloon- 
fish,  and  determining  whether  he  looked  most  like  a 
horse-chestnut  burr  or  a  ripe  cucumber,  when  his  eyes 
and  my  own  simultaneously  fell  on  the  child  and  lady. 
In  a  moment,  to  Billy,  the  balloon-fish  was  as  though  he 
had  not  been. 

"  That's  a  pretty  little  boy  ! "  said  I.  And  then  I 
asked  Billy  one  of  those  senseless  routine  questions 
which  must  make  children  look  at  us,  regarding  the 
scope  of  our  intellects  very  much  as  we  look  at  Bush- 
men. 

"  How  would  you  like  to  play  with  him  ?  " 

"  Him  ! "  replied  Billy,  scornfully,  "  that's  his  first 
pair  of  boots;  see  him  pull  up  his  little  breeches  to 
show  the  red  tops  to  'em  !  But,  crackey  !  isn't  she  a 
smasher  ! " 

After  that  we  visited  the  wax  figures  and  the  sleepy 
snakes,  the  learned  seal  and  the  glass-blowers.  When- 
ever we  passed  from  one  room  into  another,  Billy  could 
be  caught  looking  anxiously  to  see  if  the  pretty  girl 
and  child  were  coming,  too. 


A  Brace  of  Bo\s,  265 

Time  fails  me  to  describe  how  Billy  was  lost  in  aston- 
ishment at  the  Lightning  Calculator,  —  wanted  me  to 
beg  the  secret  of  that  prodigy  for  him  to  do  his  sums 
by,  —  finally  thought  he  had  discovered  it,  and  resolved 
to  keep  his  arm  whirling  all  the  time  he  studied  his 
arithmetic  lesson  the  next  morning.  Equally  inadequate 
is  it  to  relate  in  full  how  he  became  so  confused  among 
the  wax- works  that  he  pinched  the  solemnest  showman's 
legs  to  see  if  he  was  real,  and  perplexed  the  beautiful 
Circassian  to  the  verge  of  idiocy  by  telling  her  he  had 
read  all  about  the  way  they  sold  girls  like  her  in  his 
geography. 

We  had  reached  the  stairs  to  that  subterranean  cham- 
ber in  which  the  Behemoth  of  Holy  Writ  was  wallowing 
about  without  a  thought  of  the  dignity  which  one  ex- 
pects from  a  canonical  character.  Billy  had  always 
languished  upon  his  memories  of  this  diverting  beast, 
and  I  stood  ready  to  see  him  plunge  headlong  the  mo- 
ment that  he  read  the  sign-board  at  the  head  of  the 
stairs.  When  he  paused  and  hesitated  there,  not  seem- 
ing at  all  anxious  to  go  down  till  he  saw  the  pretty 
girl  and  the  child  following  after,  —  a  sudden  intuition 
flashed  across  me.  Could  it  be  possible  that  Billy  was 
caught  in  that  vortex  which  whirled  me  down  at  ten 
years,  —  a  little  boy's  first  love  ? 

We  were  lingering   about  the   elliptical  basin,   and 
catching  occasional  glimpses  between  bubbles  of  a  vivi- 
fied hair  trunk  of  monstrous  compass,  whose  knobby 
lid  opened  at  one  end  and  showed  a  red  morocco  lining, 
28 


266  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

when  the  pretty  girl,  in  leaning  over  to  point  out  the 
rising  monster,  dropped  into  the  water  one  of  her  little 
gloves,  and  the  swash  made  by  the  hippopotamus  drifted 
it  close  under  Billy's  hand.  Either  in  play  or  as  a  mere 
coincidence  the  animal  followed  it.  The  other  children 
about  the  tank  screamed  and  started  back  as  he  bumped 
his  nose  against  the  side;  but  Bill}-  manfully  bent  down 
and  grabbed  the  glove  not  an  inch  from  one  of  his  big 
tusks,  then  marched  round  the  tank  and  presented  it  to 
the  lady  with  a  chivalry  of  manner  in  one  of  his  years 
quite  surprising. 

"  That's  a  real  nice  boy,  —  you  said  so,  didn't  you, 
Lottie  ?  —  and  I  wish  he'd  come  and  play  with  me,"  said 
the  little  fellow  by  the  young  lady's  side,  as  Billy  turned 
away,  gracefully  thanked,  to  come  back  to  me  with  his 
cheeks  roseate  with  blushes. 

As  he  heard  this,  Billy  idled  along  the  edge  of  the 
tank  for  a  moment,  then  faced  about  and  said,  — 

"  P'raps  I  will  some  day.  —  where  do  you  live  ?  " 

"  I  live  on  East  Seventeenth  street  with  papa,  —  and 
Lottie  stays  there,  too,  now,  —  she's  my  cousin:  where 
d'you  live  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  live  close  by,  —  right  on  that  big  green  square, 
where  I  guess  the  nurse  takes  you  once  in  a  while," 
said  Billy,  patronizingly.  Then,  looking  up  pluckily 
at  the  young  lady,  he  added,  "  I  never  saw  you  out 
there." 

"  No,  Jimmy's  papa  has  only  been  in  his  new  house  a 
little  while,  and  I've  just  come  to  visit  him." 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  267 

"  Say,  will  you  come  and  play  with  me  sometime  ? " 
chimed  in  the  inextinguishable  Jimmy.  "  I've  got  a 
cooking-stove, — for  real  fire,  —  and  blocks  and  a  ball 
with  a  string." 

Billy,  who  belonged  to  a  club  for  the  practice  of  the 
great  American  game,  and  was  what  A.  Ward  would 
call  the  most  superior  battist  among  the  I.  G.  B.  B.  C., 
or  "  Infant  Giants,"  smiled  from  that  altitude  upon 
Jimmy,  but  promised  to  go  and  play  with  him  the  next 
Saturday  afternoon. 

Late  that  evening,  after  we  had  got  home  and  dined, 
as  I  sat  in  my  room  over  rickwith  with  a  sedative  cigar, 
a  gentle  knock  at  the  door  told  of  Daniel.  I  called 
"  Come  in  !  "  and  entering  with  a  slow,  dejected  air,  he 
sat  down  by  my  fire.  For  ten  minutes  he  remained  si- 
lent, though  occasionally  looking  up  as  if  about  to  speak, 
then  dropping  his  head  again  to  ponder  on  the  coals. 
Finally  I  laid  down  Dickens,  and  spoke  myself. 

"  You  don't  seem  well  to-night,  Daniel  ?  " 

"  I  don't  feel  very  well,  uncle." 

"  What's  the  matter,  my  boy  ?  " 

"Oh  —  ah  —  I  don't  know.  That  is,  I  wish  I  knew 
how  to  tell  you." 

I  studied  him  for  a  few  moments  with  kindly  curios- 
ity, then  answered,  — 

"  Perhaps  I  can  save  you  the  trouble  by  cross-examin- 
ing it  out  of  you.  Let's  try  the  method  of  elimination. 
I  know  that  you're  not  harassed  by  any  economical  con- 
siderations, for  you've  all  the  money  you  want;  and  I 


268  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

know  that  ambition  doesn't  trouble  you,  for  your  tastes 
are  scholarly.  This  narrows  down  the  investigation  of 
your  symptoms  —  listlessness,  general  dejection,  and  all 
—  to  three  causes,  —  Dyspepsia,  Eeligious  Conflicts, 
Love.  Kow,  is  your  digestion  awry  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  good  as  usual.  I'm  not  melancholy  on  re- 
ligion, and"  — 

"  You  don't  tell  me  you're  in  love  ?  " 

"  "Well  —  yes  —  I  suppose  that's  about  it,  Uncle  Ted- 
dy." - 

I  took  a  long  breath  to  recover  from  my  astonish- 
ment at  this  unimaginable  revelation,  then  said, — 

"  Is  your  feeling  returned  ?  " 

"  I  really  don't  know,  uncle.  I  don't  believe  it  is.  I 
don't  see  how  it  can  be.  I  never  did  anything  to  make 
her  love  me.  "What  is  there  in  me  to  love  !  I've  borne 
nothing  for  her,  —  that  is,  nothing  that  could  do  her  any 
good,  —  though  I've  endured  on  her  account,  I  may  say, 
anguish.  So,  look  at  it  any  way  you  please,  I  neither 
am,  do,  nor  suffer  anything  that  can  get  a  woman's 
love." 

"  Oh,  you  man  of  learning  !  Even  in  love  you  tote 
your  grammar  along  with  you,  and  arrange  a  divine 
passion  under  the  active,  passive,  and  neuter ! " 

Daniel  smiled  faintly. 

"  You've  no  idea,  Uncle  Teddy,  that  you  are  twitting 
on  facts;  but  you  hit  the  truth  there;  indeed  you  do.  If 
she  were  a  Greek  or  Latin  woman  I  could  talk  Anac- 
reon  or  Horace  to  her.  If  women  only  understood 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  269 

the  philosophy  of  the  flowers  as  well  as  they  do  the 
poetry  "  — 

"  Thank  God  they  don't,  Daniel !  "  sighed  I  devoutly. 

"  Never  mind;  —  in  that  case  I  could  entrance  her  for 
hours,  talking  about  the  grounds  of  difference  between 
Linnaeus  and  Jussieu.  Women  like  the  star  business, 
they  say,  —  and  I  could  tell  her  where  all  the  constella- 
tions are;  but  sure  as  I  tried  to  get  off  any  sentiment 
about  them,  I'd  break  down  and  make  myself  ridiculous. 
But  what  earthly  chance  would  the  greatest  philosopher 
that  ever  lived  have  with  the  woman  he  loved,  if  he  de- 
pended for  her  favor  on  his  ability  to  analyze  her  bou- 
quet or  tell  her  when  she  might  look  out  for  the  next 
occultation  of  Orion  ?  I  can't  talk  bread-and-butter 
talk.  I  can't  do  anything  that  makes  a  man  even  toler- 
able to  a  woman  !  " 

"  I  hope  you  don't  mean  that  nothing  but  bread-and- 
butter  talk  is  tolerable  to  a  woman  !  " 

"  No ;  but  it's  necessary  to  some  extent,  —  at  any  rate 
the  ability  is,  —  in  order  to  succeed  in  society;  and  it's 
in  society  men  first  meet  and  strike  women.  And  O 
Uncle  Teddy  !  I'm  such  a  fish  out  of  water  in  society  !  — 
such  a  dreadful  floundering  fish  !  "When  I  see  her 
dancing  gracefully  as  a  swan  swims,  and  feel  that  fel- 
lows, like  little  Jack  Mankyn,  who  "don't  know  twelve 
times,"  can  dance  to  her  perfect  admiration;  when  I 
see  that  she  likes  ease  of  manners,  —  and  all  sorts  of 
men  without  an  idea  in  their  heads  have  that,  —  while  I 
turn  all  colors  when  I  speak  to  her,  and  am  clumsy,  and 
23* 


270  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

abrupt,  and  abstracted,  and  bad  at  repartee,  —  Uncle' 
Teddy  !  sometimes  (though  it  seems  so  ungrateful  to 
father  and  mother,  who  have  spent  such  pains  for  me)  — 
sometimes,  do  you  know,  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I'd  ex- 
change all  I've  ever  learned  for  the  power  to  make  a 
good  appearance  before  her  !  " 

"  Daniel,  my  boy,  it's  too  much  a  matter  of  reflection 
with  yoii !  A  woman  is  not  to  be  taken  by  laying 
plans.  If  you  love  the  lady  (whose  name  I  don't  ask 
you,  because  I  know  you'll  tell  me  as  soon  as  you  think 
best),  you  must  seek  her  companionship  until  you're  well 
enough  acquainted  with  her  to  have  her  regard  you 
as  something  different  from  the  men  whom  she  meets 
merely  in  society,  and  judge  your  qualities  by  another 
standard  than  that  she  applies  £o  them.  If  she's  a  sen- 
sible girl  (and  God  forbid  you  should  marry  her  other- 
wise !),  she  knows  that  people  can't  always  be  dancing, 
or  holding  fans,  or  running  after  orange-ice.  If  she's 
a  girl  capable  of  appreciating  your  best  points  (and 
woe  to  you  if  you  marry  a  girl  who  can't  I ),  she'll  find 
them  out  upon  closer  intimacy,  and,  once  found,  they'll 
a  hundred  times  outweigh  all  brilliant  advantages  kept 
in  the  show-case  of  fellows  who  have  nothing  on  the 
shelves.  When  this  comes  about, 'you  will  pop  the 
question  unconsciously,  and,  to  adapt  Milton,  she'll  drop 
into  your  lap  '  gathered  —  not  harshly  plucked.' " 

"  I  know  that's  sensible,  Uncle  Teddy,  and  I'll  try. 
Let  me  tell  you  the  sacredest  of  secrets,  —  regularly 
every  day  of  my  life  I  send  her  a  little  poem  fastened 
round  the  prettiest  bouquet  I  can  get  at  Hanft's." 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  271 

"  Does  she  know  who  sends  them  ?  " 

"  She  can't  have  any  idea.  The  German  boy  that 
takes  them  knows  not  a  word  of  English  except  her 
name  and  address.  You'll  forgive  me,  uncle,  for  not 
mentioning  her  name  yet  ?  You  see  she  may  despise 
or  hate  me  some  day  when  she  knows  who  it  is  that  has 
paid  her  these  attentions;  and  then  I'd  like  to  be  able  to 
feel  that  at  least  I've  never  hurt  her  by  any  absurd  con- 
nection with  myself." 

"  Forgive  you  ?  Nonsense  !  The  feeling  does  your 
heart  infinite  credit,  though  a  little  counsel  with  your 
head  would  show  you  that  your  only  absurdity  is  self- 
depreciation." 

Daniel  bid  me  good-night.  As  I  put  out  my  cigar 
and  went  to  bed,  my  mind  reverted  to  the  dauntless  lit- 
tle Hotspur  who  had  spent  the  afternoon  with  me  and 
reversed  his  mother's  wish,  thinking, — 

"  Oh,  if  Daniel  were  more  like  Billy  !  " 

It  was  always  Billy's  habit  to  come  and  sit  with  me 
while  I  smoked  niy  after-breakfast  cigar,  but  the  next 
morning  did  not  see  him  enter  ray  room  till  St.  George's 
hands  pointed  to  a  quarter  of  nine. 

"Well,  Billy  Boy  Blue,  come  blow  your  horn;  what 
haystack  have  you  been  under  till  this  time  of  day  ? 
We  sha'n't  have  a  minute  to  look  over  our  spelling  to- 
gether, and  I  know  a  boy  who's  going  in  for  promotion 
next  week.  Have  you  had  your  breakfast,  and  taken 
care  of  Crab  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir;  but  I  didn't  feel  like  getting  up  this  morn- 


272  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

"  Are  you  sick  !  " 

"No-o-o  —  it  isn't  that;  but  you'll  laugh  at  me  if  I 
tell  you." 

"  Indeed  I  wont,  Billy  !  " 

"Well,"  —  his  voice  dropped  to  a  whisper,  and  he 
stole  close  to  niy  side,  —  "I  had  such  a  nice  dream 
about  her  just  the  last  thing  before  the  bell  rang;  and 
when  I  woke  up  I  felt  so  queer,  —  so  kinder  good  and 
kinder  bad,  —  and  I  wanted  to  see  her  so  much,"  that  if 
I  hadn't  been  a  big  boy  I  believe  I  should  have  blub- 
bered. I  tried  ever  so  much  to  go  to  sleep  and  see  her 
again;  but  the  more  I  tried  the  more  I  couldn't.  After 
all,  I  had  to  get  up  without  it,  though  I  didn't  want  any 
breakfast,  and  only  ate  two  buckwheat  cakes,  when  I 
always  eat  six,  you  know,  Uncle  Teddy.  Can  you  keep 
a  secret  ? " 

"  Yes,  dear,  so  you  couldn't  get  it  out  of  me  if  you 
were  to  shake  me  upside-down  like  a  savings-bank." 

"  Oh,  aint  you  mean  !  That  was  when  I  was  small  I 
did  that.  I'll  tell  you  the  secret,  though,  —  that  girl 
and  I  are  going  to  get  married.  I  mean  to  ask  her  the 
first  chance  I  get.  Oh,  isn't  she  a  smasher  !  " 

"  My  dear  Billy,  sha'n't  you  wait  a  little  while  to  see 
if  you  always  like  her  as  well  as  you  do  now  ?  Then, 
too,  you'll  be  older." 

"  I'm  old  enough,  Uncle  Teddy,  and  I  love  her  dearly  ! 
I'm  as  old  as  the  kings  of  France  used  to  be  when 
they  got  married, — I  read  it  in  Abbott's  histories.  But 
there's  the  clock  striking  pine  !  I  must  run  or  I  shall 


A  Brace  of  Bovs.  273 

get  a  tardy  mark,  and,  perhaps,  she'll  want  to  see  my 
certificate  sometime." 

So  saying,  he  kissed  me  on  the  cheek  and  set  off  for 
school  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  carrj^  him.  O  Love,  om- 
nivorous Love,  that  sparest  neither  the  dotard  leaning 
on  his  staff  nor  the  boy  with  pantaloons  buttoning  on 
his  jacket,  —  omnipotent  Love,  that,  after  parents  and 
teachers  have  failed,  in  one  instant  can  make  Billy  try 
to  become  a  good  boy  ! 

With  both  of  my  nephews  hopelessly  enamored,  and 
myself  the  confidant  of  both,  I  had  my  hands  full. 
Daniel  was  generally  dejected  and  distrustful;  Billy 
buoyant  and  jolly.  Daniel  found  it  impossible  to  over- 
come his  bashfulness:  was  spontaneous  only  in  sonnets, 
brilliant  only  in  bouquets.  Billy  was  always  coming  to 
me  with  pleasant  news,  told  yi  his  slangy  New  York 
boy  vernacular.  One  day  he  would  exclaim,  —  "Oh, 
I'm  getting  on  prime  !  I  got  such  a  smile  off  her  this 
morning  as  I  went  by  the  window  ! "  Another  day  he 
wanted  counsel  how  to  get  a  valentine  t*>  her,  —  because 
it  was  too  big  to  shove  in  a  lamp-post,  and  she  might 
catch  him  if  he  left  it  on  the  steps,  rang  the  bell,  and  ran 
away.  Daniel  wrote  his  own  valentine;  but,  despite  its 
originality,  that  document  gave  him  no  such  comfort  as 
Billy  got  from  twenty-five  cents'  worth  of  embossed 
paper,  pink  Cupids,  and  doggerel.  Finally,  Billy  an- 
nounced to  me  that  he  had  been  to  play  with  Jimmy, 
and  got  introduced  to  his  girl. 

Shortly  after  this  Ln  gave  what  they  call  "  a  little. 


274  -^  Brace  of  Boys. 

company,"  —  not  a  party,  but  a  reunion  of  forty  or  fifty 
people  with  whom  the  family  were  well  acquainted,  sev- 
eral of  them  living  in  our  immediate  neighborhood. 
There  was  a  goodly  proportion  of  young  folk,  and  there 
was  to  be  dancing;  but  the  music  was  limited  to  a  sin- 
gle piano  played_  by  the  German  exile  usual  on  such  oc- 
casions, and  the  refreshments  did  not  rise  to  the  splen- 
dor of  a  costly  supper.  This  kind  of  compromise  with 
fashionable  gayety  was  wisely  deemed  by  Lu  the  best 
method  of  introducing  Daniel  to  the  beau  monde,  —  a 
push  given  the  timid  eaglet  by  the  maternal  bird,  with  a 
soft  tree-top  between  him  and  the  vast  expanse  of  soci- 
ety. How  simple  was  the  entertainment  may  be  in- 
ferred from  the  fact  that  Lu  felt  somewhat  discomposed 
when  she  got  a  note  from  one  of  her  guests  asking  leave 
to  bring  along  her  niece,  who  was  making  he1  a  few 
weeks'  visit.  As  a  matter  of  course,  however,  sne  re- 
turned answer  to  bring  the  young  lady  and  welcome. 

Daniel's  dressing-room  having  been  given  up  to  the 
gentlemen  I  invited  him  to  make  his  toilet  in  mine,  and, 
indeed,  wanting  him  to  create  a  favorable  impression, 
became  his  valet  pro  tern.,  tying  his  cravat,  and  teasing 
the  divinity  student  look  out  of  his  side-hair.  My  little 
dandy  Billy  came  in  for  another  share  of  attention,  and 
when  I  managed  to  button  his  jacket  for  him  so  that  it 
showed  his  shirt-studs  "  like  a  man's,"  Count  d'Orsay 
could  not  have  felt  a  more  pleasing  sense  of  his  suffi- 
ciency for  all  the  demands  of  the  gay  world. 

When  we  reached  the  parlor  we  found  Pa  and  Ma 


.  1   Brace  of  Boys.  275 

Lovegrove  already  receiving.  About  a  score  of  guests 
had  arrived.  Most  of  them  were  old  married  couples, 
which,  after  paying  their  devoirs,  fell  in  two  like  unriv- 
eted  scissors,  —  the  gentlemen  finding  a  new  pivot  in 
pa  and  the  ladies  in  ma,  where  they  mildly  opened  and 
shut  upon  such  questions  as  severally  concerned  them, 
such  as  "  the  way  gold  closed,"  and  "  how  the  children 
were." 

Besides  the  old  married  people  there  were  several  old 
young  men  of  distinctly  hopeless  and  unmarried  aspect, 
who,  having  nothing  in  common  with  the  other  class, 
nor  sufficient  energy  of  character  to  band  themselves 
for  mutual  protection,  hovered  dejectedly  about  the  arch 
pillars,  or  appeared  to  be  considering  whether,  on  the 
whole,  it  would  not  be  feasible  and  best  to  sit  down  on 
the  centre-table.  These  subsisted  upon  such  crumbs  of 
comfort  as  Lu  could  get  an  occasional  chance  to  throw 
them  by  rapid  sorties  of  eonversation, — became  gal- 
vanically  active  the  moment  they  were  punched  up,  and 
fell  flat  the  moment  the  punching  was  remitted.  I  did 
all  I  could  for  them,  but,  having  Daniel  in  tow,  dared  not 
sail  too  near  the  edge  of  the  Doldrums,  lest  he  should 
drop  into  sympathetic  stagnation  and  be  taken  pre- 
ternaturally  bashful,  with  his  sails  all  aback,  just  as  I 
wanted  to  carry  him  gallantly  into  action  with  some 
clipper-built  cruiser  of  a  nice  young  lady.  Finally,  Lu 
bethought  herself  of  that  last  plank  of  drowning  con- 
versationists, the  photograph  album.  All  the  dejected 
young  men  made  for  it  at  once,  some  reaching  it  just  as 


276  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

they  were  about  to  sink  for  the  last  time,  but  all  getting 
a  grip  on  it  somehow,  and  staying  there  in  company 
with  other  people's  babies  whom  they  didn't  know,  and 
celebrities  whom  they  knew  to  death,  until,  one  by  one, 
they  either  stranded  upon  a  motherly  dowager  by  the 
Fire-place  Shoals,  or  were  rescued  from  the  Sofa  Reef 
by  some  gallant  wrecker  of  a  strong-minded  young 
lady,  with  a  view  to  taking  salvage  out  of  them  in  the 
German. 

Besides  these  were  already  arrived  a  dozen  nice  little 
boys  and  girls,  who  had  been  invited  to  make  it  pleas- 
ant for  Billy.  I  had  to  remind  him  of  the  fact  that  they 
were  his  guests,  for,  in  comparison  with  the  queen  of 
his  affections,  they  were  in  danger  of  being  despised  by 
him  as  small  fry. 

The  younger  ladies  and  gentlemen,  —  those  who  had 
fascinations  to  disport,  or  were  in  the  habit  of  disporting 
what  they  considered  such,  were  probably  still  at  home 
consulting  the  looking-glass  until  that  oracle  should  an- 
nounce the  auspicious  moment  for  their  setting  forth. 

Daniel  was  in  conversation  with  a  perfect  godsend  of 
a  girl,  who  understood  Latin  and  had  begun  Greek. 
Billy  was  taking  a  moment's  vacation  from  his  boys  and 
girls,  busy  with  "  Old  Maid "  in  the  extension-room, 
and  whispering,  with  his  hand  in  mine,  "  Oh,  don't  I 
wish  she  were  here  !  "  when  a  fresh  invoice  of  ladies, 
just  unpacked  from  the  dressing-room  in  all  the  airy 
/elegance  of  evening  costume,  floated  through  the  door. 
3.  heard  Lu  say,  — 


A- Brace  of  Bov*.  277 

"  Ah,  Mrs.  Kumbullion  !  Happy  to  see  your  niece, 
too.  How  d'ye  do,  Miss  Pilgrim  ?  " 

At  this  last  word  Billy  jumped  as  if  he  had  been  shot, 
and  the  bevy  of  ladies  opening  about  sister  Lu  disclosed 
the  charming  face  and  figure  of  the  pretty  girl  we  had 
met  at  Barnum's. 

Billy's  countenance  rapidly  changed  from  astonish- 
ment to  joy. 

"  Isn't  that  splendid,  Uncle  Teddy  ?  Just  as  I  was 
wishing  it  I  It's  just  like  the  fairy  books  I  "  and,  rush- 
ing up  to  the  party  of  new-comers,  "  My  dear  Lottie  1 " 
cried  he,  "  if  I'd  only  known  you  were  coming  I'd  have 
gone  after  you  I  " 

As  he  caught  her  by  the  hand  I  was  pleased  to  see 
her  soft  eyes  brighten  with  gratification  at  his  enthusi- 
asm, but  my  sister  Lu  looked  on  naturally  with  aston- 
ishment in  every  feature. 

"  Why,  Billy  !  "  said  she,  "  you  ought  not  to  call  a 
strange  young  lady  '  Lottie  I '  Miss  Pilgrim,  you  must 
excuse  my  wild  boy  "  — 

"  And  you  must  excuse  my  mother,  Lottie,"  said  Bil- 
ly, affectionately  patting  Miss  Pilgrim's  rose  kid,  "  for 
calling  you  a  strange  young  lady.  You  are  not  strange 
at  all,  —  you're  just  as  nice  a  girl  as  there  is." 

"  There  are  no  excuses  necessary,"  said  Miss  Pilgrim, 
with  a  bewitching  little  laugh.  "  Billy  and  I  know  each 
other  intimately  well,  Mrs.  Lovegrove;  and  I  confess 
that  when  I  heard  the  lady  aunt  had  been  invited  to 
visit  was  liis  mother.  I  felt  all  the  more  willing  to  in- 


278  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

fringe  etiquette  this  evening  by  coming  where  I  had  no 
previous  introduction." 

"  Don't  you  care  !  "  said  Billy,  encouragingly.  "  I'll 
introduce  you  to  every  one  of  our  family;  I  know  'em 
if  you  don't." 

At  this  moment  I  came  up  as  Billy's  reinforcement, 
and  fearing  lest  in  his  enthusiasm  he  might  forget  the 
canon  of  society  which  introduces  a  gentleman  to  a 
lady,  not  the  lady  to  him,  I  ventured  to  suggest  it  deli- 
cately by  saying,  — 

"  Billy,  will  you  grant  me  the  favor  of  a  presentation 
to  Miss  Pilgrim  ?  " 

"  In  a  minute,  Uncle  Teddy,"  answered  Billy,  consid- 
erably lowering  his  voice.  "The  older  people  first;" 
and  after  this  reproof  1  was  left  to  wait  in  the  cold  un- 
til he  had  gone  through  the  ceremony  of  introducing  to 
the  young  lady  his  father  and  his  mother. 

Billy,  who  had  now  assumed  entire  guardianship  of 
Miss  Pilgrim,  with  an  air  of  great  dignity  intrusted  her 
to  my  care  and  left  us  promenading  while  he  went  in 
search  of  Daniel.  I  myself  looked  in  vain  for  that 
youth,  whom  I  had  not  seen  since  the  entrance  of  the 
last  comers.  Miss  Pilgrim  and  I  found  a  congenial 
common  ground  in  Billy,  whom  she  spoke  of  as  one  of 
the  most  delightfully  original  boys  she  had  ever  met; 
in  fact,  altogether  the  most  fascinating  young  gentle- 
man she  had  seen  in  Xew  York  society.  You  may  be 
sure  it  wasn't  Billy's  left  ear  which  burned  when  I  made 
my  responses. 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  279 

In  five  minutes  he  reappeared  to  announce,  in  a  tone 
of  disappointment,  that  he  could  find  Daniel  nowhere. 
He  could  see  a  light  through  his  keyhole,  but  the  door 
was  locked  and  he  could  get  no  admittance.  Just  then 
Lu  came  up  to  present  a  certain  —  no,  an  uncertain  — 
young  man  of  the  fleet  stranded  on  parlor  furniture 
earlier  in  the  evening.  To  Lu's  great  astonishment 
Miss  Pilgrim  asked  Billy's  permission  to  leave  him.  It 
ranted  with  all  the  courtesy  of  a  preux  chcodur, 
on  the  condition,  readily  assented  to  by  the  lady,  that 
she  should  dance  one  Lancers  with  him  during  the 
evening. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  exclaimed  Lu,  after  Bill}'  had  gone  back 
like  a  superior  being  to  assist  at  the  childish  amusement 
of  his  contemporaries.  ••  Would  anybody  ever  suppose 
that  was  our  Billy  ?  " 

"  I  should,  my  dear  sister,"  said  I,  with  proud  satis- 
faction; "but  you  remember  I  always  was  just  to 
Billy." 

Left  free  I  went  myself  to  hunt  up  Daniel.  I  found 
his  door  locked  and  a  light  showing  through  the  key- 
hole, as  Billy  had  stated.  I  made  no  attempt  to  enter 
by  knocking;  but  going  to  my  room  and  opening  the 
window  next  his,  leaned  out  as  far  as  I  could,  shoved  up 
his  sash  with  my  cane,  and  pushed  aside  his  curtain. 
Such  an  unusual  method  of  communication  could  not  fail 
to  bring  him  to  the  window  with  a  rush.  "When  1. 
me  he  trembled  like  a  guilty  thing,  his  countenance  fell, 


280  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

and,  no  longer  able  to  feign  absence,  he  unlocked  his 
door  and  let  me  enter  by  the  normal  mode. 

"  Why,  Daniel  Lovegrove,  my  nephew,  what  does  this 
mean  ?  Are  you  sick  ?  " 

"  Uncle  Edward,  I  am  not  sick,  —  and  this  means  that 
I  am  a  fool.  Even  a  little  boy  like  Billy  puts  me  to 
shame.  I  feel  humbled  to  the  very  dust.  I  wish  I'd 
been  a  missionary  and  got  massacred  by  savages.  Oh 
that  I'd  been  permitted  to  wear  damp  stockings  in 
childhood,  or  that  my  mother  hadn't  carried  me  through 
the  measles  I  If  it  weren't  wrong  to  take  my  life  into 
my  own  hands,  I'd  open  that  window,  and  —  and  —  sit 
in  a  draught  this  very  evening  !  Oh,  yes  !  I'm  just  that 
bitter!  Oh,  oh,  oh  !" 

And  Daniel  paced  the  floor  with  strides  of  frenzy. 
"  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  let's  look  at  the  matter  calmly 
a  minute.  What  brought  on  this  sudden  attack  ?  You 
seemed  doing  well  enough  the  first  ten  minutes  after  we 
came  down.  I  was  only  out  of  your  sight  long  enough 
to  speak  to  the  Rumbullion  party  who  had  just  come  in, 
and  when  I  turned  around  you  were  gone.  Now  you 
are  in  this  fearful  condition.  What  is  there  in  the  Rum- 
bullions to  start  you  off  on  such  a  bender  of  bashful- 
ness  as  this  which  I  here  behold  ?  " 

"  Rumbullion  indeed  !  "  said  Daniel.  "  A  hundred 
Rumbullions  could  not  make  me  feel  as  I  do.  But  she 
can  shake  me  into  a  whirlwind  with  her  little  finger; 
and  she  came  with  the  Rumbullions  !  " 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  281 

"  What !    D'you  «-  Miss  Pilgrim  V  " 

"  Miss  Pilgrim  !  " 

I  labored  with  Daniel  for  ten  minutes,  using  every  en- 
couragement and  argument  I  coiild  think  of,  and  finally 
threatened  him  that  I  would  bring  up  the  whole  Rum- 
bullion party,  Miss  Pilgrim  included,  telling  them  that 
he  had  invited  them  to  look  at  his  couchological  cabinet, 
unless  he  instantly  shook  the  ice  out  of  his  manner  and 
accompanied  me  downstairs.  This  dreadful  menace  had 
the  desired  effect.  He  knew  that  I  would  not  scruple 
to  fulfil  it;  and  at  the  same  time  that  it  made  him  sur- 
render, it  also  provoked  him  with  me  to  a  degree  which 
gave  his  eyes  and  cheeks  as  fine  a  glow  as  I  could  have 
wished  for  the  purpose  of  a  favorable  impression.  The 
stimulus  of  wrath  was  good  for  him,  and  there  was  little 
tremor  in  his  knees  when  he  descended  the  stairs.  Well- 
a-day  !  So  Daniel  and  Billy  were  rivals  I  • 

The  latter  gentleman  met  us  at  the  foot  of  the  stair- 
case. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are,  Daniel  I  "  said  he,  cheerily.  "  I 
was  just  going  to  look  after  you  and  Uncle  Teddy. 
"We've  wanted  you  for  the  dances.  We've  had  the 
Lancers  twice  and  three  round  dances;  and  I  danced 
the  second  Lancers  with  Lottie.  Now  we're  going  to 
pluy  M>me  games,  —  to  amuse  the  children,  you  know," 
he  added,  loftily,  with  the  adult  gesture  of  pointing  his 
thumb  over  his  shoulder  at  the  extension-room.  "  Lot- 
tie's going  to  play,  too;  so  will  you  and  Daniel,  wont 
you,  uncle  ?  Oh,  here  comes  Lottie  now  !  This  is  my 
24* 


282  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

brother,  Miss  Pilgrim,  —  let  me  introduce  him  to  you. 
I'm  sure  you'll  like  him.  There's  nothing  he  don't 
know." 

Miss  Pilgrim  had  just  come  to  the  newel-post  of  the 
staircase,  and,  when  she  looked  into  Daniel's  face, 
blushed  like  the  red,  red  rose,  losing  her  self-possession 
perceptibly  more  than  Daniel. 

The  courage  of  weak  warriors  and  timid  gallants 
mounts  as  the  opposite  party's  falls,  and  Daniel  made 
out  to  say,  in  a  firm  tone,  that  it  was  long  since  he  had 
enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  meeting  Miss  Pilgrim. 

"  Not  since  Mrs.  Cramcroud's  last  sociable,  I  think," 
replied  Miss  Pilgrim,  her  cheeks  and  eyes  still  playing 
the  tell-tale. 

"  Oho  !  so  you  don't  want  any  introduction  ! "  ex- 
claimed Master  Billy.  "  I  didn't  know  you  knew  each 
other,  Lottie.  ?  " 

"  I  have  met  Mr.  Lovegrove  in  society.  Shall  we  go 
and  join  in  the  plays  ?  " 

"  To  be  sure  we  shall  !  "  cried  Billy.  "  You  needn't 
mind,  —  all  the  grown  people  are  going  to." 

On  entering  the  parlor  we  found  it  as  he  had  said. 
The  guests  being  almost  all  well  acquainted  with  each 
other,  at  the  solicitation  of  jolly  little  Mrs.  Bloomingal, 
sister  Lu  had  consented  to  make  a  pleasant  Christmas 
kind  of  time  of  it,  in  which  everybody  was  permitted 
to  be  young  again,  and  romp  with  the  rompiest. 
We  played  Blindman's-buft'  till  we  were  tired  of 
that,  —  Daniel,  to  Lu's  great  delight,  coming  out  splen- 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  283 

didly  as  Blindman,  and  evincing  such  "cheek"  in  the 
style  he  hunted  down  and  caught  the  ladies,  as  satisfied 
me  that  nothing  but  his  eyesight  stood  in  the  way  <>t" 
his  making  an  audacious  figure  in  the  world.  Then  a 
pretty  little  girl,  Tilly  Turtelle,  who  seemed  quite  a 
premature  flirt,  proposed  "  Door-keeper,''  —  a  suggestion 
accepted  with  great  eclat  by  all  the  children,  several 
grown  people  assenting. 

To  Billy  —  quite  as  much  on  account  of  his  shining 
prominence  in  the  executive  faculties  as  of  his  character 
as  host  —  was  committed  the  duty  of  counting  out  the 
first  person  to  be  sent. into  the  hall.  There  were  so 
many  of  us  that  "  Aina-maina-mona-mike  "  would  not 
go  quite  round;  but,  with  that  promptness  of  expedient 
which  belongs  to  genius,  Billy  instantly  added  on, 
"  Intery-mintery-cutery-corn,"  and  the  last  word  of  the 
cabalistic  formula  fell  upon  me,  —  Edward  Balbus.  I  dis- 
appeared into  the  entry  amidst  peals  of  happy  laughter 
from  both  old  and  young,  calling,  when  the  door  opened 
again  to  ask  me  whom  I  wanted,  for  the  pretty  lisping 
flirt  who  had  proposed  the  game.  After  giving  me  a 
a  coquettish  little  chirrup  of  a  kiss,  and  telling  me  my 
beard  scratched,  she  bade  me,  on  my  return,  send  out  to 
her  "  Mithter  Billy  Lovegrove."  I  obeyed  her;  my 
youngest  nephew  retired;  and  after  a  couple  of  seconds, 
during  which  Tilly  undoubtedly  got  what  .she  proposed 
the  game  for,  Billy  being  a  great  favorite  with  the  little 
girls,  she  came  back,  pouting  and  blushing,  to  announce 
that  he  wanted  Miss  Pilgrim.  That  young  lady  showed 


284  A  Brace  of  Soys. 

no  mock-modesty,  but  arose  at  once,  and  laughingly 
went  out  to  her  youthful  admirer,  who,  as  I  afterward 
learned,  embraced  her  ardently,  and  told  her  he  loved 
her  better  than  any  girl  in  the  world.  As  he  turned  to 
go  back,  she  told  him  that  he  might  send  to  her  one 
of  her  juvenile  cousins,  Reginald  Rumbullion.  Now, 
whether  because  on  this  youthful  Rumbullion's  account 
Billy  had  suffered  the  pangs  of  that  most  terrible  pas- 
sion, jealousy,  or  from  his  natural  enjoyment  of  playing 
practical  jokes  destructive  of  all  dignity  in  his  elders, 
B^lly  marched  into  the  room,  and,  having  shut  the  door 
behind  him,  paralyzed  the  crowded  parlor  by  an  an- 
nouncement that  Mr.  Daniel  Lovegrove  was  wanted. 

I  was  standing  at  his  side,  and  could  feel  him  tremble, 
—  see  him  turn  pale. 

"  Dear  me  !  "  he  whispered,  in  a  choking  voice;  "  can 
she  mean  me  ?  " 

"  Of  course  she  does,"  said  I.  "  Who  else  ?  Do  you 
hesitate  ?  Surely  you  can't  refuse  such  an  invitation 
from  a  lady." 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  he,  mechanically.  And 
amidst  much  laughter  from  the  disinterested,  while  the 
faces  of  Mrs.  Rumbullion  and  his  mother  were  spectacles 
of  crimson  astonishment,  he  made  his  exit  from  the 
room.  Never  in  my  life  did  I  so  much  long  for  that 
instrument  described  by  Mr.  Samuel  "\Veller,  —  a  pair 
of  patent  double-million-magnifying  microscopes  of 
hextry  power,  to  see  through  a  deal  door.  Instead 
of  this,  I  had  to  learn  what  happened  only  by  report. 


A  Brace  of  Bo\s.  285 

Lottfe  Pilgrim  was  standing  under  the  hall  burners 
with  her  elbow  on  the  newel-post,  looking  more  vividly 
charming  than  he  had  ever  seen  her  before  at  Mrs. 
Cramcroud's  sociable  or  elsewhere.  When  startled  by 
the  apparition  of  Mr.  Daniel  Lovegrove  instead  of  the 
little  Rumbullion  whom  she  was  expecting,  —  she  had 
no  time  to  exclaim  or  hide  her  mounting  color,  none  at 
all  to  explain  to  her  own  mind  the  mistake  that  had 
occurred,  before  his  arm  was  clasped  around  her  waist, 
and  his  lips  so  closely  pressed  to  hers,  that  through  her 
soft  thick  hair  she  could  feel  the  throbbing  of  his  tem- 
ples. As  for  Daniel,  he  seemed  in  a  walking  dream, 
from  which  he  waked  to  see  Miss  Pilgrim  looking  into 
his  eyes  with  utter  though  not  incensed  stupefaction,  — 
to  stammer,  — 

"  Forgive  me  !  Do  forgive  me  !  I  thought  you  were 
in  earnest." 

"  So  I  was,"  she  said,  tremulously,  as  soon  as  she 
could  catch  her  voice,  "  in  sending  for  my  cousin  Regi- 
nald." 

"  Oh,  dear,  what  shall  I  do  !  Believe  me,  I  was  told 
you  wanted  me,  — let  me  go  and  explain  it  to  mother, — 
she'll  tell  the  rest,  —  I  couldn't  do  it,  —  I'd  die  of  morti- 
fication. Oh,  that  wretched  boy  Billy  !  " 

On  the  principle  already  mentioned,  his  agitation  re- 
assured her. 

"  Don't  try  to  explain  it  now,  —  it  may  get  Billy  a 
scolding.  Are  there  any  but  intimate  family  friends 
here  this  evening:  ?  " 


286  A  Brace  ofm  Soys. 

"  Ko  —  I  believe  —  no  —  I'm  sure,"  replied  Daniel, 
collecting  his  faculties. 

"  Then  I  don't  mind  what  they  think.  Perhaps  they'll 
suppose  we've  known  each  other  long;  but  we'll  ar- 
range it  by-and-by.  They'll  think  the  more  of  it  the 
longer  we  stay  out  here,  —  hear  them  laugh  !  I  must 
run  back  now.  I'll  send  you  somebody." 

A  round  of  juvenile  applause  greeted  her  as  she  hur- 
ried into  the  parlor,  and  a  number  of  grown  people 
smiled  quite  musically.  Her  quick  woman-wit  showed 
her  how  to  retaliate  and  divide  the  embarrassment  of 
the  occasion.  As  she  passed  me,  she  said  in  an  under- 
tone, — 

"  Answer  quick  !  Who's  that  fat  lady  on  the  sofa 
that  laughs  so  loud  ?  " 

"  Mrs.  Cromwell  Craggs,"  said  I,  as  quietly. 

Miss  Pilgrim  made  a  satirically  low  courtesy,  and 
spoke  in  a  modest  but  distinct  voice,  — 

"  I  really  must  be  excused  for  asking.  I'm  a  stranger, 
you  know;  but  is  there  such  a  lady  here  as  Mrs.  Craggs, 
—  Mrs.  Cromwell  Craggs  ?  For  if  so,  the  present  door- 
keeper would  like  to  see  Mrs.  Cromwell  Craggs." 

Then  came  the  turn  of  the  fat  lady  to  be  laughed  at; 
but  out  she  had  to  go  and  get  kissed  like  the  rest  of  us. 

Before  the  close  of  the  evening,  Billy  was  made  as 
jealous  as  his  parents  and  I  were  surprised  to  see  Danie] 
in  close  conversation  with  Miss  Pilgrim  among  the  gera- 
niums and  fuschias'  of  the  conservatory.  "  A  regular 
flirtation,"  said  Billy,  somewhat  indignantly.  The  con- 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  287 

elusion  which  they  arrived  at  was,  that  after  all  no  great 
harm  had  been  done,  and  that  the  dear  little  fellow 
ought  not  to  be  peached  on  for  his  fun.  If  I  had  known 
at  the  time  how  easily  they  forgave  him,  I  should  have 
suspected  that  the  offence  Billy  had  led  Daniel  into 
committing  was  not  unlikely  to  be  repeated  on  the 
offender's  own  account;  but  so  much  as  I  could  see 
showed  me  that  the  ice  was  broken. 

Billy's  jealousy  did  not  outlast  the  party.  He  became 
more  and  more  interested  in  "  his  girl,"  and  often  went 
in  the  afternoon,  after  getting  out  of  school,  ostensibly 
to  play  with  Jimmy.  Daniel's  calls,  according  to  adult 
etiquette  made  in  the  evening,  did  not  interfere  with  my 
younger  nephew's,  and  as  neither  knew  that  the  other, 
after  his  fashion,  was  his  most  uncompromising  rival, 
rny  position  as  the  confidant  of  both  was  one  of  extreme 
delicacy.  But  the  matter  was  more  speedily  settled  than 
I  expected. 

Bill}'  came  to  me  one  day  and  told  me  that  he  intended 
to  get  married  immediately ;  that  he  was  going  to  speak  to 
his  Lottie  that  very  afternoon.  He  was  prepared  to  meet 
every  objection.  He  had  asked  his  father  if  he  might, 
and  his  lather  said  yes.  if  he  had  money  enough  to 
support  a  wife.  —  and  Billy  thought  he  had.  IIe\l  saved 
up  all  the  money  his  "Uncle  Tom  and  Aunt  Jane  had 
sent  him  for  Christmas;  and  besides,  if  he  were  once 
married,  his  father  wouldn't  see  him  want  for  stamps, 
he  knew.  Then,  too.  he  was  going  t<>  leave  school  and 
he  a  merchant  next  year. —  and  I'd  help  him  now  ami 


288  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

then,  if  he  got  hard  up,  wouldn't  I  ?  If  he  were  driven 
to  it,  he  could  be  a  good  boy  again,  and  save  up  the 
money  to  buy  Lottie  dresses  instead  of  giving  it  to 
nasty  old  "  Objecks."  He  was  so  much  older  than  when 
he  had  the  savings-bank,  that  he  ought  to  have  at  least 
ten  cents  a  day  now  for  being  good:  didn't  I  think  that 
was  fair  ?  As  to  his  age,  if  Lottie  loved  him  he  didn't 
care,  —  any  way  he'd  be  lots  bigger  than  she  was  before 
long,  —  and  he'd  often  heard  his  ma  say  she  approved  of 
early  marriages;  her's  and  pa's  was  one.  So  he  ran  oft' 
up  Livingston  Place,  the  most  undauuted  lover  that 
ever  put  extra  shine  on  his  proposal  boots,  or  spent  half 
an  hour  on  the  bow  of  his  popping  neck-tie. 

Shortly  after  Daniel  went  into  the  street.  Kot  mean- 
ing to  call  upon  his  inamorata,  but,  drawn  by  the  irre- 
sistible fascination  of  passing  her  house,  he  strolled  in 
the  direction  that  Billy  had  gone.  As  he  came  to  the 
Rumbullions'  something  suddenly  bade  him  enter,  —  a 
whim  he  called  it,  but  not  his  own,  —  one  of  the  whims 
of  Destiny,  which  are  always  gratified. 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  the  servant,  "  Miss  Pilgrim  is  in.  I 
will  call  her." 

His  step  was  always  light.  He  passed  noiselessly  into 
the  front-parlor,  and  sat  down  among  the  heavy  broca- 
'telle  ciirtains  which  shadowed  a  recess  of  one  of  the 
windows.  He  supposed  Miss  Pilgrim  to  be  upstairs, 
and  while  his  heart  fluttered,  expecting  her  footfall  at  the 
parlor-door,  he  heard  an  earnest,  boyish  voice  in  the 
extension-room.  Looking  from  his  concealment,  he  be- 


A  Brace  of  D  289 

held  Miss  Pilgrim  on  a  sofa  in  tin-  pier,  and  sitting  by 
her  side,  with  her  hand  clasped  in  his,  his  In-other  Billy. 
Before  he  could  avoid  it,  he  became  aware  that  Billy  was 
unconsciously  but  eagerly  forestalling  him. 

"  Now,  Lottie,  my  dear  Lottie  !  I  wish  you  would  I 
I'll  do  everything  I  can  to  make  you  happy.  If  you'll 
only  marry  me,  I'll  be  good  all  the  time  !  Come,  now  ! 
Say  yes  !  Father's  got  a  real  nice  place  over  the  stable, 
—  they  only  use  it  for  a  tool-room  now ;  we  could  clear 
it  out  and  have  it  scrubbed,  and  go  to  house-keeping 
right  away.  Ma  'd  let  us  have  all  her  old  set  of  china; 
I've  got  a  silver  mug  Uncle  Teddy  gave  me,  and  a 
napkin-ring  and  four  spoons.  As  soon  as  I  make  my 
money  I'll  buy  you  a  nice  carriage  and  horses,  any  color 
you  want  'em.  Oh,  my  darling,  darling  Lottie,  I  do 
love  you  so  much,  and  we  could  have  such  a  splendid 
time  !  Do  say  yes,  Lottie,  —  please,  do  please  ! " 

Miss  Pile-rim  looked  at  the  earnest  little  suitor  with  a 
face  in  which  tender  interest  and  compassion  quite  over- 
rode any  sense  of  the  whimsicality  of  the  situation 
which  might  lurk  there.  Daniel's  astonishment  at  the 
sight  was  so  great  that  he  realized  the  entire  state  of  the 
case  before  he  could  recover  himself  sufficiently  to  rise 
and  go  into  the  back-room. 

Billy  j  urn  pod  up  and  looked  defiantly  at  the  intruder. 
Miss  Pilgrim  blushed  violently,  but  turned  away  her 
head  to  avoid  the  exhibition  of  a  still  more  convulsing 
emotion  than  embarrassment. 

"  I  must  beg  your  pardon.  Miss  Pilgrim,  —  and  yours 
25 


290  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

too,  Billy,"  began  Daniel  in  a  hesitating  way,  hardly 
knowing  how  to  treat  the  posture  in  which  he  found 
things;  "  but  —  you  see  —  the  fact  is  —  the  servant  said 
she'd  go  to  announce  me  —  and  really,  when  I  canle  in, 
I  hadn't  any  idea  you  were  here,  or  Billy  either." 

"  Then,"  said  Billy,  moderating  the  defiant  attitude, 
"you  truly  weren't  dodging  around  and  trying  to  find 
out  what  Lottie  and  I  were  about  on  the  sly  ?  "Well, 
I'll  believe  you.  I'm  sure  you  couldn't  be  as  mean  as 
that  when  I'm  the  only  brother  you've  got,  that  always 
brings  you  oranges  when  you're  sick,  and  never  plays 
ball  on  the  stairs  when  you've  got  a  headache.  Now, 
then,  I'll  trust  you.  I've  been  asking  Lottie  to  marry 
me,  and  I  want  you  to  help  me.  Ask  her  if  she  wont, 
Daniel,  —  see  if  she  wont  do  it  for  you  !  " 

Miss  Pilgrim  had  been  trying  to  find  words;  but  her 
face  was  too  much  for  her,  and  she  was  obliged  to  seek 
retirement  in  her  handkerchief.  As  she  drew  it  from 
her  pocket  a  well-worn  piece  of  paper  followed  it  and 
fell  upon  the  floor.  Billy  picked  it  up  before  she  noticed 
it,  and  was  about  to  hand  it  to  her,  when  his  jealous  eye 
fell  upon  a  withered  rosebud  sewed  to  its  margin.  As  he 
looked  at  it,  with  his  little  brows  knit  into  a  precocious 
sternness,  he  recognized  his  brother's  handwriting  im- 
mediately beneath  the  flower.  It  was  one  of  the  daily 
anonymous  sonnets  of  which  Daniel  had  told  me,  and 
the  bud  a  relic  of  the  bouquet  accompanying  it.  Still 
Daniel  was  silent.  What  else  could  he  be  ? 

"  Very  well,  very  well,  Master  Daniel ! "  exclaimed 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  291 

Billy,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  grief  and  indignation; 
"  there's  good  enough  reason  why  you  wont  speak  a 
word  for  me  I  You  want  her  yourself,  —  here  it  is  in 
your  own  writing.  Ko  wonder  you  wont  tell  Lottie  to 
be  my  wife  when  your  trying  to  take  her  away  from  me. 
O  Lottie,  dear  Lottie  !  I  love  you  just  as  much  as  he 
does,  though  I  don't  know  everything,  and  can't  write 
you  poetry  like  it  was  out  of  the  Fifth  Reader  !  Daniel, 
how  could  you  go  and  write  to  my  Lottie  this  way: 
'  my  churner, '  —  no,  it  isn't  churner,  it's  '  charmer,'  — 
'  let  me  call  thee  mine  ? ' " 

Forgetting  the  sacredness  of  private  MS.  in  that  of 
private  grief,  he  would  have  gone  on,  with  a  pause  here 
and  there  for  certainty  of  spelling,  to  the  conclusion  of 
the  poem,  had  not  Lottie  sprung  up  with  her  imploring 
face  suffused  by  her  discovery,  for  the  first  time,  of  the 
identity  of  her  secret  lover  and  the  escape  of  his  sonnet 
from  her  pocket.  It  was  too  late  !  There  he  stood  be- 
fore her  unmistakably  proved,  and  himself  unmistakably 
proving  in  what  estimation  she  held  his  verses  and  bou- 
quets. 

"  O  Billy,  dear  Billy  !  if  you  do  love  me  don't  do 
so  !  "  So  exclaiming,  she  held  out  her  hand,  and  Billy 
put  the  MS.  into  it  with  all  the  dignity  of  a  wounded 
spirit. 

"  Mr.  Lovegrove,"  said  Miss  Pilgrim,  "  I  don't  know 
what  to  say." 

"I  feel  very  much  that  way  myself,"  said  Daniel. 

"  I  don't !  "  said  Billy,  now  in  command  of  his  voice. 


292  A  Brace  of  Boys. 

"  I'll  tell  you  Avhat  it  is  :  perhaps  Daniel  didn't  know 
how  much  I  wanted  you,  Lottie, —  and  perhaps  he 
wants  you  'most  as  bad  as  I  do.  But  whatever  Avay  it 
is,  I  want  you  to  choose  between  us  fair  and  square  and 
no  dodging.  Come  now !  You  can  take  just  which- 
ever one  of  us  you  please,  and  the  other  wont  lay  up 
any  grudge,  though  I  know  if  that's  me  or  like  me  he'll 
feel  awful.  You  can  have  till  to-morrow  morning  to 
make  up  your  mind  between  me  and  Daniel;  and  if  he 
wont  say  anything  about  it  to  pa  and  ma  till  then  1 
wont.  Good-by,  dear  Lottie  !  " 

He  drew  her  face  down  to  his,  kissed  her  most  affec- 
tionately, and  then  marched  out  of  the  door,  feeling,  as 
he  afterwards  told  me,  as  if  he'd  blacked  his  boots  all  for 
nothing.  Ah  me  !  my  dear  Billy,  how  many  times  we 
do  that  in  this  world  !  Of  what  followed  when  Daniel 
and  Miss  Pilgrim  were  left  alone  I  have  never  had  full 
details. 

* 

But  I  do  know  that  the  young  lady  obeyed  Billy  and 
made  her  choice.  Six  months  after  that  both  my 
nephews  stood  up  in  Mrs.  Rumbullion's  parlor  to  take 
their  several  shares  in  a  ceremony  of  which  Miss  Pil- 
grim was  the  central  figure  when  it  began,  and  Mrs. 
Daniel  Lovegrove  when  it  concluded.  Time  and  the 
elasticity  of  boyhood  had  so  closed  the  sharp  but  eva- 
nescent wound  in  Billy's  heart  that  he  could  stand  the 
trial  of  being  groomsman  where  he  had  wanted  to  be 
groom,  —  more  especially  since  he  was  supported 


A  Brace  of  Boys.  293 

through  the  emergency  by  a  little  M>UT  of  Lottie's, 
who  promises  to  be  wondruusly  like  her  by  the  time 
Billy  can  stand  up  in  the  more  enviable  capacity. 
Neither  Daniel  nor  Lottie  would  listen  to  any  objection 
to  such  a  groomsman  on  the  score  of  his  extreme  youth; 
for,  as  they  said,  Billy  had  been  quite  as  instrumental 
in  bringing  them  together  as  any  agent  save  the  Divin- 
ity shaping  all  the  ends  and  tying  all  the  knots  in  which 
there  are  heart-strings  concerned  as  well  as  white  rib- 
bon. 

Since  then  Lu  has  stopped  wishing  that  Billy  were 
like  Daniel,  for  she  sees  that,  if  he  had  been,  there  would 
never  have  been  any  Mrs.  Daniel  Lovegrove  in  the 
world. 


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